


Stargate Universe: Awakening

by shireteapot



Series: Stargate Universe: Ninth [3]
Category: Stargate - All Series, Stargate Universe
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Family, Fix-it fic, Friendship, Grief, Heartbreak, Humour, Loss, Love, Multi, Romance, Sci-Fi, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireteapot/pseuds/shireteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The silence is deafening. Rush’s mouth is dry. He bites the bullet, begins, “Eli – ”<br/>“Don’t.” The Boy Genius’ voice is hard, sharp enough to cut steel, cold enough to freeze the sun. Rush’s mouth snaps shut. His hands are hanging, useless, at his sides, and he tucks them under his arms. For a long time, no one speaks. He can read the anger written in every line of Eli’s frame, feel the betrayal in his eyes; he may have little sense of tact when it comes to these things, but Rush is no fool. He knows better than to push his luck now.<br/>Eventually, a voice that sounds nothing like Eli’s rasps, “I forgave you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargate Universe: Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Goddamn did this turn out longer than I expected...Next up, a multichapter fic wherein the crew of the Destiny embark on a new adventure.

There is a change in the air. Not a shifting of the wind, nor the appearance of a new scent in the warmth and light of the midday sun. Not the low hum of voices drifting lazily up from the city streets below. Something different. The kind of change that cannot be physically felt, nor seen nor heard – only sensed, acknowledged in the way the hair stands up on the back of the perceiver’s neck. Something _not right_.

The Captain of the Guard pauses in his long circuit of the outer wall. He hasn’t experienced such a sensation – like the aftermath of a cold chill he didn’t notice roll over his skin – in _years_ , more than he cares to count and certainly more than many of the men under his command will have seen. He believes the mortals call it _instinct_. “Is something wrong, sir?” Shaken from his thoughts, the Captain turns to the young Watchman to his right, eyeing him curiously. The man is new to the Legion, that much is obvious: his service insignia is still shiny and spotless on his collar, not yet tarnished by time like the one the Captain bears pinned to his own uniform. It’s also upside-down. He must be one of the new recruits transferred to the port station here in the city, following the Council’s call to increase the Guard ranks. Serrus looks the Watchman up and down as subtly as he can, and clears his throat.

“Nothing,” he answers quietly, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. “Just an odd thought I had.” Stepping closer to the Watchman, Captain Serrus looks out over the edge of the wall at the stretch of wildlands beyond, pearly fields and thinning azure woodland that disappear into the distance. “All clear, I take it?” The young man lets out a sigh of something that sounds terribly close to boredom, shifting his weight between his feet as he, too, turns to the horizon.

“Nothing to report. Never is. I always understood that serving would be more...” The Watchman glances back at his commanding officer and, seeing the raised eyebrow directed his way, stills his fidgeting. Bowing his head, he lowers his voice and adds in a murmur, “All clear, sir.” Serrus resists the urge to roll his eyes.

 _Definitely new to the Legion_.

“There was a reason why we chose this planet,” he explains, reaching out a hand to run it along the smooth surface of the city wall, hewn from the violet rock native to this world. “But I suppose you had not yet been born at that time.”

The Watchman shakes his head slowly. “No, sir. Not even close.” For a moment, Serrus is silent, surveying the landscape outside the city and wishing he could shake the unusual prickle crawling up his spine. Then he nods once, and steps back from the wall.

“Eyes open,” he tells the Watchman, re-clasping his hands before starting to walk away.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect a full recorded report for the database at the end of the day. Leave it at my station and I shall log it first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” A strong, cold breeze begins to blow about them, the light of the sun passing behind a cloud. Serrus is little more than ten feet away from the Watchman when he remembers the upside-down insignia. Turning on his heel, he calls,

“Oh, and...” But the words die on his tongue. The Watchman has abandoned his observation of the wildlands and is now staring, brow furrowed and eyes wide, at the sky above the city. Serrus follows the man’s gaze; gone is the stretch of pure, brilliant blue that was there just moments ago. Now even as they watch the wind picks up with sudden and surprising force, and whips together a growing tangle of thick, dark clouds that were not there before. Without taking his eyes off the sky Serrus returns, his own forehead creasing, hands gripping the inner edge of the city wall before he’s even aware that he moved. “What on...”

“Is it rain?” the Watchman asks hopefully, looking to his commanding officer with expectancy and concern on his face – but Serrus isn’t listening. Cries from the city streets fifty feet below force him to tear his eyes away from the darkening sky and look down over the parapet. People have stopped in the middle of their duties to point and stare at the storm rapidly massing above them.

Because it must be a storm of some kind. They’re rare on this world but that’s all it can be: shadow is descending over them as dark as night, the sky an ominous, impenetrable wall of black.

And then a low rumble begins just at the edge of his hearing, and Serrus’ un-beating heart leaps against his ribcage.

“Captain?” The Watchman tightens his grip on his weapon. “Captain!” Serrus drags his eyes up, looks back to the sky. “Capt – ” The Watchman is silenced by Serrus’ raised hand as the older man stares fixedly at the heavens, waiting. Waiting for a drop of rain, a break in the clouds. Proof that this is a natural occurrence and not what he fears it to be.

Instead the rumble booms out like a thunderous clash of drums, and for a moment – one brief, doubtful, the Watchman swears he feels the ground shake beneath his feet. Somebody in the street screams. Along the wall, all the way out to the distant edge of the city where the port lies, he can make out his fellow Watchmen standing and looking at one another in fear and bewilderment, clutching their weapons close. When he turns to his Captain, he finds that it’s a finger keeping him silent now, and Serrus has not moved. Above them the clouds grow only blacker. Then a second crash, even louder than the first, so deafening and so deep that the Watchman feels the vibrations in his blood. This time, he knows that the very earth is trembling. Beside him Serrus lifts a second finger.

He is counting.

Seconds pass, during which the rumble hovers in the air like the hum of an engine and the Watchmen of the city guard hold their breath. And then it stops. The noise fades away, and the cold wind biting at Serrus’ ears dies.

He remains frozen for a few moments longer, still counting in his head: _four...five...six_. Silence. Until finally he lets out a relieved sigh, lowering his hand and releasing the wall as he turns to face the Watchman. It’s now so dark that he can barely see the man’s face. “Just a storm,” he says. “For a moment I thought – ”

A flash, a shock of burning red light that bursts through the clouds and illuminates the entire city as a roar splits the air, and the cracking, rolling booms begin anew.

Below them, the ground shakes violently and splinters apart. Jagged cracks form in the stone streets and split open, swallowing up stalls and goods and unlucky bystanders, spreading like cobwebs through the thick, solid rock of the outer wall. The Watchman’s gun slips from his hands – the city wall is supposed to be impenetrable. People are screaming, running for the cover of their homes, but even as they flee the brick and dust of them begin to fall, and a few streets away one building collapses suddenly in on itself and disappears into a new rent in the earth. The thunder has found a rhythm:one clash after another, like the beating of a heart.

Serrus is not unprepared. He has been waiting for this day.

Along the city walls his guards are scrambling to arms, shouting orders at one another, as if they stand a chance – they are all too young. They cannot possibly know what this is. This is the storm to end all storms. This is the Darkness that brought them to their knees, that forced them into exodus, into seeking sanctuary at the farthest reaches of time and space. The Devourer of Worlds.

Serrus seizes the Watchmen by his collar, and all but throws him toward the steps. "Spread the command for evacuation!" he orders, harsh and urgent. "We have mere minutes. Save as many as you can."

 

xXx

 

The silence of _Destiny’s_ halls is shattered.

Gears grind to a halt. Lights flicker and hum to life. The FTL drive shuts down.

Young greedily drinks his first breath of air in three years.

It’s not fresh, no – bit musty actually, like when they first got here – but _goddamn_ if it isn’t the best air the Colonel had ever tasted. He blinks, inhales deeply. Makes a mental note to check the CO2 scrubbers.

 

_Are you sure about this?_

_I’ll see you on the other side._

Young chokes mid-breath.

 

 _Eli_.

 

He lurches forward, stumbles, and nearly falls down the steps of his pod in the process. Around him the other pods are beginning to open; Rush first, with a smooth whirr and a soft inhale, and the scientist blinks his blue eyes open. He remembers immediately, the Colonel a flash of movement in the corner of his eye.

Next are Scott and TJ, then Chloe, then Camile: all on shaking legs, the latter two taking it worst. Chloe’s first breath sends her into a coughing fit, and Camile finds it nigh impossible to coordinate her limbs. They’d expected some mild discomfort after such prolonged use of the pods, but that doesn’t make them feel any better about it – and it certainly doesn’t make Chloe feel any less embarrassed, her cheeks flushing pink as Scott pats her too-gently on the back. Finally making it down the steps Camile mutters,

“Well. _That_ was enjoyable.” The only person who hears (or would hear, if they were paying attention) is TJ. TJ, whose entire focus is on their Colonel, and the ghostly whiteness of his face. At his side Rush is just as pale, the two of them looking into an empty pod, seemingly oblivious to the presence of everyone else. Rush whispers something that sounds like a question but doesn’t receive an answer; Young turns away, and sits down slowly on the stairs.

“Colonel Young?” It’s Scott who calls him. TJ can’t get her voice to work, lost as it is behind the heart in her throat, because as much as Everett can be a royal pain in the ass she still loves him and she _knows_ that _something_ is _wrong_ –

“We’re one down,” says Camile, hesitant even though she’s counted twice and _can’t_ be that wrong. Scott lets go of Chloe. He straightens up, looks to their resident genius for an explanation.

“Rush?” The man ignores him, moving unsteadily to sit beside Young on the steps, staring off at nothing as if he didn’t hear Scott at all. Chloe chooses this moment to recover herself, asking hoarsely,

“Where’s Eli?” It’s then that TJ spots the kino lying in the corner nearby, panel screen cracked and blank, and she at last manages to speak.

“Oh, _God_.”

 

xXx

 

It’s the screaming that first alerts them to the fact that something is wrong. It breaks out from one of the stasis halls close by and echoes, piercing and sharp through the corridors of the ship, so sudden that Brody slips on the steps of his pod and falls, face-first, into Dale. Catching him under the arms, he and Brody both turn at once to Greer, who has frozen in the middle of helping Lisa out of her pod. She grips his arm tightly, fear evident in her voice as she squeaks,

“Ronald?” Wide-eyed, Greer murmurs,

“What in the hell is that?”

“That’s Chloe.” It’s James, and she has Varro with her. He says something that she fails to hear over the pounding of her own heart. All her instincts are screaming at her to reach for the gun she doesn’t have; it’s been a long, long time since she last heard a scream like this. But gun or no gun, it’s not her job to stand here and wait for the trouble to come to her. “Varro, Greer – Becker – ” The cook looks up from doing a headcount. “Follow me.”

 

xXx

 

At first, the room is so quiet that TJ is sure she can hear the rasp and rush of air inside her chest, each breath shuddery and weak, barely a breath at all.

Eli’s voice, Eli’s face, dirty and bruised and streaked with tears on the screen in her hands.

 

 _I didn’t want it to end like this_.

   

And that’s when Chloe loses it. She crumples, collapsing in on herself the same way she did the day her father died. Only this time there is no lashing out, no half-hearted attack on Rush – just her screams of denial, contorted almost beyond recognition around her sobs. Scott stops her hitting the floor just in time.

“What’s going on, Colonel?” he asks, the words less than steady. It’s a struggle not to demand a response, to remember his place. “Colonel?! Rush?!” It’s no use. Rush looks vaguely sick, running a shaky hand over his bristly jaw, clearly not listening.

 

_This is the Last Will and Testament of Eli Wallace._

 TJ desperately tries to swallow down the lump rising in her throat, those words ringing in her ears. Behind her, Camile is openly fighting tears.

“Why did you _let him stay?_ ” she husks out, frail and scratchy. “ _Why_?”

“He said he could fix it.” The first words Rush has spoken, and they’re not even directed at Camile: he’s talking to himself. That doesn’t stop her from bursting out,

“And you _believed_ him?!” and it’s a ridiculous thing to say, because _of course_ they did, of course they believed Eli was capable, that he would make it, that he wouldn’t –

“TJ? Matt?” James appears in the doorway, closely followed by Greer and Becker, Varro bringing up the rear. “What’s – ” She’s cut off by a particularly violent bout of sobbing from Chloe, her question hanging in the air. TJ couldn’t answer her even if she wanted to.

But it doesn’t matter. Finally, Colonel Young looks up, and breaks his silence to rasp,

“We lost Eli. He’s gone.”

 

xXx

 

“Eli Wallace is... _was_...a fine young man.” His voice trembles in the darkness of the gate room, hollow and empty despite the crowd of people gathered before him. For once he addresses them all as less of a leader and more of a man, trying to contain the wild, storming emotions burning inside him as he stands here on the stairs: pain. Anger. Guilt.

 _I never wanted it to end like this_.

To his right, Scott’s eyes are blank and far away, seeing something other than the cold floor. To his left James’ gun shakes in her unsteady hands.

“He was kind, and good-hearted, and...braver than you or I could ever hope to be.” Young pauses as a hitched sob erupts faintly from someone in the crowd. Not everyone is crying – a lot of the people gathered here didn’t know Eli very well, and most of those who did seem to be in a severe state of shock. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he decides that he should probably ask TJ to check that out. The medic is making no attempt to brush away her own tears. “When he realised that he...couldn’t fix the pod, he could have drawn extra power from the...stasis program to give himself more time. Knowing that to do so would most likely harm us, Eli instead opted to asphyxiate. He gave his life to ensure our own.” The words hang heavily in the air for a few long moments as Young allows them to resonate in his mind, torch beams flickering over his face. A light sweat has broken out over his skin and deep down, underneath the raging tangle of emotion threatening to engulf him, he feels strangely...quiet. Faint. The weak tickle of an approaching numbness. Perhaps he’s going into shock, too. That would make sense. It is his fault, after all.

“He is a huge...” _monumental, tragic_ “...huge loss to this crew.” In the corner he spies Rush, chalky white even in the dim light, staring into nothingness, and he wonders if he, too, blames himself. _Good God, what am I going to tell his mother?_

The next few minutes are a blur. Young asks Scott to step forward and explain protocol: the civilians can go back to their work as normal, minus power. Rationing of their limited resources will be implemented until they have a chance to resupply. The majority of the military forces will stand by for orders whilst a small team make their way to Eli’s quarters to...retrieve the body. But the Lieutenant doesn’t respond; he’s too busy trying to remember the last thing he said to Eli, the _very last_ thing. If he can only remember, if he can just focus, then maybe...maybe this will all just turn out to be some awful nightmare. He wants to say a prayer, feels like he should – but what kind of God would allow a _good_ person, a good _friend_ like Eli Wallace to....? Young takes a deep breath, and gives the explanation himself. Then he unclasps his hands from behind his back, forcing his limbs to move, legs at high risk of turning to jell-o at any second. The heavy clunks of boots on metal stairs seem distant, on the other side of some cotton-wool fog that’s descending on him rapidly.

 _I can’t fix it. I tried, but I can’t_.

He walks past TJ, past Lisa sobbing into Greer’s shoulder, past Dale and Brody looking so grave you’d think they’d just been told that _they_ were...

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

Eli Wallace is gone. Eli Wallace is –

Young is less than twenty feet from the door when it gives a familiar grinding sound, gears whirring. Everyone in the room turns to look and the Colonel freezes, rooted to the spot, too deep in despair to think that maybe he should reach for his sidearm as the doors slide open, and a silence as thick and choking as death falls over them all. In the doorway, wide-eyed and surprised and very much alive, stands a Boy Genius...and a Patrian redhead. Nearly every single pulse present collectively skips a beat. Young feels his jaw go slack and a cold chill creep up his spine and he stares and _stares_ because this can’t be real, cannot be – Eli’s eyebrows curve downwards. His lips form an awkward smile.

“Did we, uh...did we miss the speech?” The words wash over the Colonel like the roll of a wave and in the distant part of his mind that comprehends what he’s seeing, he wonders what the boy could possibly mean. Then he twigs:

 _Oh, of course. The inspirational ‘we survived’ speech, the one that didn’t happen because you died and that loss overshadowed all success._ He has already opened his mouth to tell Eli this when Ginn bites her lip, drawing his attention, and says,

“I think we did, Eli.” And somehow, hearing her voice (the tones of a woman who shouldn’t _have_ a voice, who shouldn’t even have a body) makes the fog around him break like a fever, and the full reality of what he’s seeing dawns on him. Eli and Ginn are standing here in front of him and he knows then that they must be real, because as he’s remarked before, his imagination just isn’t that good. Laughter starts to bubble up behind him, making him turn around even as that god-awful chill starts to leave his body.

The quiet chuckles are coming from Dale and Brody; high and breathless enough to float away on the air, if they weren’t weighed down with incredulity and sweet relief. Dale runs a shaky hand over his forehead, waves the other dramatically at Eli and Ginn and repeats (seemingly to himself), “Did they miss the speech?” He giggles weakly, disbelief aching in his veins, because one of his best friends has just returned from the dead and the only thing the guy asks is – “ _Did they miss the speech?_ ” And then Brody’s sniggers begin to increase in fervour, until he’s gasping out,

“ _You son of a bitch_ ,” at Eli through surprisingly glassy eyes, and a few more smiles emerge around the room, and as the Not-So-Dead Boy Genius grins the Colonel steps forward, shaken from the numb stupor of needless grief at last. He doesn’t bother to extend his hand this time. Instead he pulls the kid into a hug, and tells him weakly,

“Man, am I glad to see you, Eli.” Young’s movement is like the bursting of a dam: faint chatter breaks out among those who don’t know Eli Wallace and Ginn so well, whilst those who do push and wind their way over, trailing guns or wiping half-heartedly at tears. Camile forces out a watery smile. Scott starts to laugh and TJ and James join him; Greer’s is rough and real as he catches Ginn – whom he’d never realised he felt so much affection for – up in a hug, a rare moment of letting his heart show, before putting her down to guide a harder-crying Lisa over. His place is soon taken by Varro, who holds Ginn so tightly she can barely breathe, and then Brody (an affectionate pat on the shoulder from him). Throughout it all, Chloe cannot move. She stands frozen in her own personal horror of self-realisations. Rush shakes, silent, ghostly pale from an emotion he doesn’t want to admit to. He hovers in the background, trying to hide, trying to avoid the confrontation he knows will come, telling himself he will be stoic and indifferent as always – but when dark, searching eyes somehow find his in the shadows, Rush feels it like a bolt of lightning through his body, and whatever little colour he had left drains away.

 

xXx

 

After the emotional reunions are over – the hugs, the tears, the _why did you volunteer you stupid fool_ punches on the arm and _finally you got your body back_ smiles – the majority of the crew disperse: the civilians are asked to return to their duties, the military to their posts to await further instruction. Torches are handed out as sparingly as possible. Then Colonel Young gathers the remaining people, the small, tight-knit group that makes up the heart of this unlikely expedition, and initiates their first official post-stasis progress meeting. In the reassuring familiarity of the gate room, surrounded by his friends, Eli explains mostly everything. He leaves out Rush’s laptop entirely, explaining how he made the notes and sketches from his own downloaded data and making no mention of the scientist’s secret. He glances over at Rush as he speaks and finds the man’s eyes are busy boring a hole into the floor, arms folded across his chest, face grey and sombre. Ginn’s fingers tighten around Eli’s at his half-truths, but she says nothing. She knows Rush would face the wrath of the whole crew if Eli gave him up, and the Boy Genius won’t want that to happen. At least, not until he’s had Rush answer all of his questions. He describes the darkness and the erellium and fixing the panel, _Destiny_ shutting him out of the system and then he trails off, remembering the cold, clammy grip of that black hole inside him, growing steadily like a fungus, a disease taking hold.

Rush inquires, in noticeably unsteady tones, if Eli encountered a solid-form re-manifestation of Amanda during the two weeks. He fall silent again when the boy shakes his head soberly and remains that way, even as Eli recounts Franklin’s words about _Destiny_ ’s true mission – completely discrediting Rush’s theory that her purpose was to find the ‘being’ that created the universe. But his expression finally does change at the mention of the ship’s previous crew, an emotion somewhere between surprise and indignation coming onto his face. This particular revelation earns a mixed reaction from the rest of the group: the military raise their eyebrows and the scientists scoff, and while some people demand to know how that could be possible others are fidgeting and frowning, trying hard to disguise their jealousy; because they have been _Destiny_ ’s keepers for five years now, and as far as most of the ragtag band of survivors are concerned she belongs to them. It makes Eli highly uncomfortable to know that if anything, _they_ belong to _Her_. With a capital ‘H’. There is no longer any doubt in his mind that Ginn was right about _Destiny_ being a conscious intelligence, and he voices this with utter certainty.

“She’s watching us all the time, kinda like...like the Eye of Sauron, I guess,” he says, fumbling for an explanation. “But not malicious. She looks out for us, She...well, She sort of _encourages_ us to do things she wants...”

“You mean she manipulates us,” Scott puts in with a quirked eyebrow, and Eli is forced to reluctantly concede.

“But again, not malicious.” Licking at his lip, he glances up at the ceiling the way he’s taken to doing, as though he expects to see a whiff of cloud and pearly gates floating there. “ _Destiny_ ’s more than just a computer, is what I’m trying to say – ”

“An omniscient power,” comes Rush’s quiet, _I’ve-already-figured-it-out-for-you_ voice, and everybody briefly looks to him. His arms are folded across his chest, a thumb brushing over his bottom lip in thought. Blue eyes lift to meet dark, exhausted brown, and Eli is later amazed at the calmness of his tone when he replies,

“Yeah. Exactly.” The scientist looks away.

Colonel Young fixes the Scot with a peculiar look from his position leaning against the railing of the stairs. But, in his own still-recovering state of mind, he puts Rush’s strange behaviour down to a combination of disappointment, guilt, and the lingering after-effects of shock. Knowing that _Destiny_ has the capability to bring Dr Perry back and yet declines to do so must be eating away at him, not to mention Franklin casually blowing a hole in everything they’d thought they knew about this ship. And then there’s the fact that the two of them were responsible for Eli staying behind to fix the pod. The kid nearly died, and as far as Young is concerned that’s on Rush and himself. But they’re awake now, all of them alive and unharmed in a new galaxy, finally free from the threat of those damned droids. They’re also running on emergency life support power only, drifting towards the next star to refuel as they speak, and even without light or consoles there’s a whole list of things that need to be done. “Well,” he begins at the next lapse in conversation. Eli’s solemn words still echo in the room as if physical, tangible.

He pushes away from the railing. “Lieutenant Scott – ” the soldier perks up at the sound of his name, more than ready for orders, “I want you, James and Greer to round up the rest of the military, split into teams and...carry out a security sweep of every room in the explored sections of this ship. Better safe than sorry. Report back to me in my office when you’re done.” Scott, Greer and James all nod once in understanding. Varro, who in a surge of protectiveness has positioned himself close to Ginn, can’t help but notice that he was not included in that instruction. He thinks he has a pretty good idea of the reason why, and it has little to do with trust issues. But for the sake of keeping peace (and the weak smile on Ginn’s face) he says nothing. The Colonel clears his throat. “Lieutenant Johansen,” he begins in a tone that is suddenly much more... _formal_. She lifts her head expectantly next to Scott, straightens her shoulders. “I need you...to give Eli and Ginn a once-over, make sure they’re fit for duty.” There’s something off about the way Young addresses his boots, the exit, the walls, rather than look at her directly. It’s the only elephant in the room of which they are all aware, making Brody avert his eyes from TJ and Volker shift comfortably on the spot. _TJ-and-Young. TJ-and-Young-and-Varro_. The medic’s lips press into a tight line, blue eyes filling with an emotion that Eli aches to see, because after everything she’s been through TJ deserves much better than this. A few feet away, a muscle tightens in Varro’s jaw. But then TJ replies, quietly,

“Yes, sir,” and the awkward spell is broken. Young wastes no time in moving on.

“Rush, how long until we reach the next star for refuelling?” Thought pulling at the corner of his mouth, Rush gives a non-committal half-shrug.

“Seeing as _Destiny_ must be aware of our situation, I expect she will have brought us out fairly close. We’ll have to drift there until the refuelling engages. Three, four hours, tops.” Colonel Young nods, satisfied with this answer, and continues.

“I will be using the...communication stones to sign in on Earth. I won’t be gone long,” he says, _now_ somehow able to sweep his eyes around the group. “Those of you without orders, it’s back to your usual tasks. That’ll be all.”

There’s a shuffle of movement: Young strides out, already reaching for his radio. James starts contacting her fellow soldiers via her own as Scott takes Chloe’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He frowns lightly in concern at her sombre face and complete silence, leaning down to murmur something in her ear. Whatever it is, it makes the edge of her lips up at last. On Chloe’s other side Greer’s usual, determined expression falters. Just a blip in his features, but Eli catches it. The reason quickly becomes obvious when the Master Sergeant turns to Lisa, standing beside him with her hand at his right elbow. He seems to flounder for a moment, torn between his ingrained reaction to carry out Young’s orders and the need to look after his girlfriend. In that instant, Eli sees how Greer’s fierce loyalty could bite him in the ass one day. It’s not even a case of heart versus head, because it doesn’t take a genius to know that Ronald Greer is _all_ heart in everything he does. Act now, think later. Camile, surprisingly, is the one to come to his rescue. She steps forward and loops her arm through Lisa’s, and says, “I’ll keep an eye on her.” He instinctively looks to Lisa for her reaction: she smiles, tells him,

“ _Go_. I’ll be fine.” Greer nods at Camile in silent thanks, his _ready-for-action_ face slipping back on, and after finding Scott’s eyes they, Chloe and James head for the doors. Camile gently asks Lisa where she wants to go and then they’re gone, too. Across the room, Eli and Rush’s eyes meet. The Boy Genius inhales sharply. This is his chance. And Rush knows it, sees the intention in that dark gaze and he is rooted, against his will, to the floor by his own guilt. Ginn squeezes Eli’s hand as something of a _good luck_ , muttering to a confused TJ as they leave that he’ll be along soon. Brody and Dale hesitate at the door, because they’re going to need Rush on the bridge. The Scot sees them fidgeting and tells them, with his usual bluntness,

“I’ll be there to supervise the refuelling. Go.” They exchange suspicious looks, but don’t argue, and Dale has the sense to close the door behind him.

 

And the two geniuses are alone.

 

The silence is deafening. Rush’s mouth is dry. He bites the bullet, begins, “Eli – ”

“ _Don’t_.” The Boy Genius’ voice is hard, sharp enough to cut steel, cold enough to freeze the sun. Rush’s mouth snaps shut. His hands are hanging, useless, at his sides, and he tucks them under his arms. For a long time, no one speaks. He can read the anger written in every line of Eli’s frame, feel the betrayal in his eyes; he may have little sense of tact when it comes to these things, but Rush is no fool. He knows better than to push his luck now.

Eventually, a voice that sounds nothing like Eli’s rasps, “I forgave you.” Rush frowns, confused – he was expecting something else.

“I – ”

“In my messages,” Eli steamrollers over him. “The ones I recorded when I thought that I was gonna die. I forgave you for trying to kill me.” The world seems to stop at that, Rush’s heart skipping a long beat. By the time it starts again he has gone quite cold, and Eli’s face has clouded over, the hurt washed away and replaced by something far more disconcerting. He looks blank. Rush can’t read him at all. “I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Eli continues, low enough that it’s almost a whisper. “Especially not Colonel Young.” A grimace, in memory of what happened the last time the two men had a spat. “But I, _need_ to know, Rush – ” And there it is again, vulnerability in the flash of pain across his features. “I need to know _why_.”

Clenching his jaw, Eli steels himself, shaking fingers curled into fists. There is nothing that the stubborn scientist could say to wound him now – no reason he could give, no scenario that Eli hasn’t already considered, hasn’t turned over and over in his mind a million times since he found out that Rush knew. That it was all a set up. That he was left to die.

Rush tries to look Eli in the eye, he really does. It’s not for want of a spine that he fails, but of a clear conscience. Gaze drifting to the floor, he inhales slowly, and murmurs,

“Eli, I _wasn’t_ …” The very idea steals the words from his tongue. “I would _never_ …”

“Then _what_?” Eli snaps impatiently, sharp enough to make the older man wince.

“I was an idiot.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, ever admitted such a thing to anyone except himself. It’s not a word he tends to associate with himself, except on the rare occasion that he manages a spectacular screw-up. “It was a test,” he says, mainly to the floor. “A test of your ability, of your intellect and your work under pressure. I never thought – I never _considered_ …” It all sounds so damn _ridiculous_ now, and it _was_ , it was such a bloody _stupid_ idea –

“So what else is new?!” Eli all but shouts, dark eyes shining, the slightest tremor in his voice. “You didn’t _consider_ anyone but yourself. You never _do_!” He laughs then, high and disbelieving. “What am I even _saying_?!” Rush feels like he missed the punchline, and when Eli takes a step forward there’s a moment where the scientist truly believes he’ll be swung for. He backs up on instinct, but no blow comes.

Raking trembling hands through his own hair, Eli breaks.

“ _I nearly died._ I nearly _asphyxiated_ because of your goddamn _test_ , because of your freakin’ _God-Complex!_ ” Rush flinches. “And you want me to believe you _care_ when you haven’t even said you’re _sorry_?!”

“Eli– ”

“Don’t! _Don’t_.” Half the ship must have heard them by now, surely they must. Chest heaving, Eli draws a ragged breath, and gasps out, “Fuck you, Rush. _Fuck you_.” The words hit Rush like daggers, pierce through the thin veil of armour he’s been holding on to since they woke up, and honestly he knew it was coming, knew _someone_ would lose it with him eventually, but of all the people on this ship, he hadn’t expected it to be _Eli_.

He knows he has no one else to blame. He brought this upon himself. Upon the both of them.

Eli says nothing more. One firm shake of his head and he’s gone, pushing past Rush on his way out, but the older man barely feels the collision. He is too numb, too sick with himself to feel much at all except the roiling of his stomach, and the cold, shameful beating of his own heart.

 

xXx

 

Colonel Young isn’t usually the kind of man to hesitate. But with his hand raised halfway to the plate, one of the communication stones held lightly between his fingers, he does. He hesitates. The faintest of creases passes quickly over his brow and then is gone. An unwelcome wave of nerves surges through him like an electric current. Anticipation. Fear. There is no guaranteeing that this Earth will be the same one they said goodbye to three years ago. For all he and his stranded crew know the world could have ended in their absence. “Sir?” The Colonel’s gaze flickers to the technician sitting next to him at the table. Middle-aged man, greying, civilian. Robinson, he’s pretty sure that’s the guy’s name. Young flexes the fingers of his free, right hand and tries to ignore the itch of the strap securing his forearm to the chair.

“If they’re not... _friendly_ ,” he forces out, so close to saying _human_ , “sever the connection _immediately_.” He doesn’t wait for a response from the technician. He leans forward and touches the stone to the plate.

For the second time in as many hours, Young opens his eyes.

There are more computers than he remembers, and these ones are far shinier – they’ve updated their tech. A different mirror stands on the desk in front of him. He sits up suddenly and swivels to the right, and the chair doesn’t squeak. _New furniture. They’ve gone all out._ Everything’s different, except for the familiar drab eggshell blue paint that covers the walls. _Okay, they skimped a little. Figures_. The unknown face in the mirror breaks out into a smile, young features lighting up, and he hopes his host is staying calm back on board the _Destiny_. Ash-blonde hair, green eyes, not a wrinkle in sight. New recruit, the Colonel figures. Barely into his twenties. Won’t have seen much action yet. Young looks down at his host’s uniform and finds the name embroidered on the left breast: _Dunham_. _Corporal_. Nothing like a good demotion to start the day.

The sound of a heavy glass door pushing open tears him away from his thoughts, and when Young looks up he finds his line of sight filled by a dark-haired soldier. “Colonel Young?” she inquires politely, hands clasped behind her back. A short sigh of relief escapes him before he can stop himself.

“Yeah,” he replies almost breathlessly. “That’s me.” The young woman smiles good-naturedly at this, and says,

“It’s good to have you back with us, sir.” Young laughs – a hearty, chuckling laugh that sounds nothing like his own.

“It really is.” Still smiling, the woman goes on,

“My orders were to escort you to see General O’Neill, but I’m afraid he’s currently unavailable.” The Colonel’s smile fades just a fraction. “Instead I’ll be taking you to see Colonel Telford.” The corner of Young’s mouth turns back up.

“Telford it is then,” he says, standing. The woman nods.

“Follow me, sir.”

 

xXx

 

“Are you _sure_ you’re gonna be okay?” Dragged out of her thoughts, Chloe looks up and forces a smile. Matt’s hands tighten gently around her own; the concern on his face would melt her heart if there weren’t other things on her mind.

 _You always act like I’ve awarded you some kind of runner-up prize_. “Yeah,” she lies, pushing down her internal trembling to reach up and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.” _I know_. “Go with Ronald. I’ll be fine.” _Of course you do_. Matt studies her for what feels like a long time, trying to assess whether or not she is telling him the truth. But unlike him Chloe is far more skilled at lying and, from her old shallow life on Earth, getting people to believe what she wants them to. In fact, out of everyone, the only person who can always see through her is Eli. _I really thought that was it, y’know? Game Over. Lights out._ Whatever Matt is looking for in her face he seems to find it, because finally he nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Sure.” Greer waits silently in the background as Matt leans forward, pressing a kiss to Chloe’s forehead, before releasing her hands and walking away. The Master Sergeant falls neatly into step beside him, and together they quickly vanish out of sight around a corner. For a minute or so Chloe hovers in the doorway, allowing the fake smile to slip from her face. No, she’s not fine. She’s shaky and fighting tears and if she’s completely honest with herself she thinks she’s in some kind of shock. Her best friend almost _died_ , for God’s sake, she almost lost him before she had a chance to tell him how grateful she is, how lucky, how _sorry_....Her stomach lurches, twisting with guilt. All the times she’s hurt him, and she wouldn’t have been able to apologize. Wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye. Reaching out, she presses the button to close the door as she turns and walks into the quarters, but stops in the middle of the room. It’s dark in here. _Pitch black, like....like some kind of nightmare from when I was kid_. Chloe screws her eyes shut against the voice in her head, and wraps her arms around her waist. She should have said thank you. She should have said sorry.

 

xXx

 

“This’ll just sting a bit.” Ginn doesn’t wince as the needle slides into the crook of her elbow, quickly collecting a small amount of red liquid; her mind is too far away. She’s spent the majority of TJ’s basic examination with her thoughts on Eli, wondering where he is, hoping he was somehow wrong about Rush’s intention to let him die, and that he and the older man have managed to settle their differences. The latter is an almost ridiculous hope – she knows that, but she still holds onto it. Even though the relationship between the two geniuses is...volatile, at best, deep down something tells her that Eli and Rush need each other on a level that’s more than just intelligent competition. “All done.” TJ holds a single vial of crimson between her gloved forefinger and thumb, right in front of Ginn’s eyes, and the sight of it jerks her back to the present.

“Oh. Sorry, I zoned out.” TJ smiles, watching her as she rolls down her sleeve. Lack of power has left the infirmary in almost total darkness, save for the light of a torch that Ginn holds in her left hand. She’d been pointing it at her opposite arm so that TJ could take a blood sample, perched on one of the examination tables, but now she passes the light back to the medic and follows the beam as it bobs away, over to the next table where a variety of equipment is laid out.

“I’ve done a routine examination,” floats TJ’s voice out of the darkness, accompanied by the quiet snap of latex as she pulls off her gloves. “Checked your blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, had a look for sighs of concussion or any kind of brain injury...you’re all clear.” The light bobs back, and when she comes into view she’s wearing the trademark reassuring smile of a medical professional; she gave up insisting that she’s ‘just a medic’ months and months ago. But even Ginn can sense the uncertain, unspoken ‘ _as far as I can tell_ ’ that clings to the end of her diagnosis and lingers in her tone. Because there’s no set methodology for a situation like this, no M.O – how exactly do you know if anything’s wrong with a body that was manifested by the computer of a million-year-old spaceship?

“Thank you,” Ginn murmurs sincerely, trying to push away the ‘what if’s niggling in the back of her mind and allow herself to feel relieved.

“Don’t mention it.”

The silence that follows isn’t quite awkward, but not entirely comfortable, either. It’s not that they don’t like one another. It’s more that they haven’t interacted enough to really be _friends_ , the way Ginn and the science team are, even with all the ‘ _Destiny_ _Ladies’ Night_ ’s that Lisa took the Patrian woman along to. But Ginn knows that TJ is a good person, and she hopes that one day they can be closer. Trying her hardest not to fidget, she can’t help but notice how much more worn the medic looks since she last saw her, the extra worry lines and the exhaustion etched into her features. For a moment she chews her lip, deliberating. Then,

“Eli told me that you’re sick.” The words are as gentle as she can make them, but they still cause TJ to momentarily freeze in the middle of semi-awkwardly touching her hair. By the time she recovers herself the other woman is already speaking again. “I don’t remember much to do with healing from my homeworld,” Ginn tells her, knowing that all the customary sympathies in the universe will make no difference. “I was never any good at it, we always went to the miners or the woodfolk for medicines...but if I _ever_ think of _anything_ , TJ...I’ll let you know.” The medic swallows, blue eyes flickering up from the floor to look at her, their depths glassy in the torchlight. She wishes she could do more to help. She really, truly does. TJ’s tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, her mouth dry and her heart hammering unpleasantly, the way it’s taken to doing every time she thinks about the ALS.

 _As if it knows_ , she thinks, _as if it knows I only have five years left_. Suddenly she finds herself wondering if Eli’s heart beat faster, too, when he believed he was going to die, before Ginn came back. Desperate in the dark, when he knew it was coming. And just for a second – one awful, never-ending moment – her fear of dying is engulfed by a spike of terror at the thought of dying _alone_. She nearly chokes, then. She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath. TJ sucks in a shaky, silent gasp of air, and manages to force out two husky words.

“ _Thank you_.” Right on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches their ears. They both turn towards the doorway, and sure enough when TJ swings the torch round it lands on a familiar Boy Genius. Eli stops in his tracks, throwing his hand up against the torch beam and squinting.

“ _Woah_ , bright light.” Instantly Ginn feels a smile break out on her face, and when she looks back to TJ, the medic is smiling too.

Eli is also given the all-clear, although TJ fusses when he admits that he was forgetting to eat and sleep before Ginn was re-manifested and wouldn’t buy his excuses. He’s told very firmly that he needs to drink plenty of fluids – _I’ll get Colonel Young to double your water ration, you can’t afford to be so dehydrated_ – and take it easy, which makes him pout because _that includes off-world trips, Eli_. She takes a look at the wound on his finger, swipes it with some of their precious antiseptic and covers it which a small dressing; now that he’s no longer half-crazy and sleep-deprived he realises he probably should have thought of the antiseptic sooner, and his stomach churns uncomfortably at the reasonably deep gash that runs knuckle to nail. All the while Ginn stands beside him, rubbing circles over the back of his good hand with her thumb and talking about general things: what the crew are going to do next, how things might have changed on Earth during their sleep. When he winces at the cool metal of a stethoscope on his chest or the push of a needle into a vein (TJ decides to test a blood sample from him, too, just to be on the safe side) she gives his fingers a gentle squeeze and distracts him by asking things like,

 _What exactly is this ‘Star Trek’?_ or _So he’s not actually part-bat, part-man, then?_ And all the while she can feel him trembling, ever-so-faintly beneath her fingertips. Not with anger, his voice is too steady and his laughter too genuine for it to be that. No, it’s down to some other emotion that he’s trying to suppress, and she knows it has to be something to do with Rush. She’ll ask, later, but for now distractions are the best she can do. Finally, TJ pronounces him fit to leave the infirmary. Before he hops down from the table she leans in and presses a single, soft kiss to his cheek.

“It’s good to have you back,” she murmurs, feeling her eyes start to burn with more tears at the memory of the hollow, crushing sense of emptiness that swept over the crew when they woke up and he wasn’t there. Her eyes flicker to Ginn, and she thinks of Varro, and of Eli’s smile, and she adds, “Both of you.”

 

xXx

 

Time has been kind to Colonel Telford. There are deeper creases around his eyes, the promise of silver beginning to show at his temples – but otherwise the man is unchanged. It’s still the same old grin that he wears, the same firm handshake as he greets Young at the door to his office. Young takes a seat across the desk from him and tries, very hard, to shake the surreal feeling of being back in this room.

“It’s good to see you again, Everett,” Telford says, quiet and sincere. Young forces a smile.

“It’s good to be back,” he replies.

If they were different men – if they were softer, less stoic, less dedicated to the needs of their people and more conscious of their own – they would pause here. Make small talk about Emily, the Superbowl, the President, the state of the economy. The little things needed to fill in the blanks, to make sense of all that has passed and been left behind.

But they are not different men. They are Colonels first and foremost, and people second.

“Where’s General O’Neill?” Young asks instead, straight to the point. The edge of Telford’s mouth twitches up.

“Away.”

“Away where?”

“It’s hard to say.” Telford leans back in his chair, threading his fingers together. “Last week it was the Pentagon. Yesterday the White House. Today I suspect he’s on Theseus, our new off-world planet – but they won’t even tell _me_ that for sure.” The young face of Corporal Dunham frowns at him, brows drawn together in a manner so uncharacteristic that Telford cannot forget who is inhabiting the boy’s body.

“What’s happened, David?” Telford sighs, and comes to rest his elbows on the desk.

“We’re not sure,” he says, and it’s the truth, as strange as it sounds. "About six months ago, we received reports that a group of Lucian Alliance were executed for desertion. There were fifty of them. An entire base.”

“That’s a lot of deserters.”

“Mm.”

“Was it mutiny?” Telford shakes his head.

“No hostilities of any kind. The unit Commander himself gave the order to bug out. But that’s not even the fun part…” Telford looks indescribably weary then, scrubbing a hand over his face, as though he’s had one too many sleepless nights and heated debates over the issue. Knowing the man the way he does, Young is sure this is the case. Finally, his old friend says, “It’s gone, Everett. The whole damn thing.”

“What is?”

“The Lucian Alliance.”

 

XxX

The bridge is completely unchanged, exactly the way they left it. They might as well have last set foot in here yesterday, for all the difference there is. Grunting a little with the effort, Dale and Brody set down the heavy crates they carry in a corner, taking a moment to lean against the wall and catch their breath. “I am so out of shape,” Brody near-wheezes, hands on his hips. Dale grins, taking his hand off the wall and straightening up, wiping at his forehead. The two crates are full of paperwork, notebooks and pencils and pens, all of their handwritten calculations; as Rush began to insist a few months ago, the science team keep hard copies of most of their work in case of a situation just like this. No power, no workstations.

“You should have stuck to Matt’s fitness plan,” he says, and Brody scoffs.

“Yeah, like you didn’t quit on the first day.”

“Hey – I held my own for at least an hour there.” Rolling his eyes, Brody ducks down and grabs the Ancient drill-type tool from on top of his crate.

“I’m getting too old for this.” Dale nods his agreement, huffing out a short breath. If anything, it feels as though his stint on _Destiny_ has aged him by at least twenty years. Together the two men unbolt the containers and sift through the contents to find their work. Brody rescues his designs for a new water-purifying system and Dale digs out his shield efficiency equations, retreating to the familiarity of their adjacent workstations. They don’t have any lamps, all of them dead after Eli’s two weeks, but a single torch propped up between them provides just enough light for them to see what they’re doing. Brody grumbles something under his breath, annoyed about having to work in such poor visibility and impatient for the star on the horizon to _hurry up and get here already_. Dale shrugs, and tells him they’ll reach it soon, just like Rush said. Then they can refuel and actually see where they’re going for a change.

“Y’know, I wish I could be surprised that he put us back to work so fast,” the astrophysicist murmurs, half to himself, “but I really can’t.”

The other man doesn’t even look up from his drawings as he quirks an eyebrow. “Of course not, he’s Rush,” he replies. Then, in a fairly decent Scottish accent, “ _I’ve got no time for slackers or idots, Mr Volker, so when you’re ready to be of actual use just let me know_.” Dale snorts into his papers. “ _Bloody useless, the lot of yer!_ ” He starts to giggle, trying to stifle it behind his pages and failing as Brody sniggers. “ _Why don’t yer all bugger off and do somethin’ helpful?!_ ” It feels good to laugh, with emotions running so high all over the ship: three years in stasis has cost some of the crew their friends or family members, loved ones, people who they told to move on or who were sick. People who have left them behind. People they’ve lost in one way or another. Dale’s never had anyone to let go, not since his parents passed. There’s no one back on Earth waiting for him, no siblings, though as a kid he always wished he had brothers and sisters. Brody never talks about his family. Maybe there’s no one waiting for him, either. So Dale lets himself laugh, enjoying the way it makes his sides ache and feeling, for the first time since waking up, as if this is the way things are supposed to be – that is until the irritable Scotsman they’re mocking walks into the room. They fall silent immediately, their laughter dying and leaving them looking to one another with the guilty expressions of children caught red-handed.

Rush strides determinedly past them to sit down in the command chair without even glancing their way. His brow is set in a concrete frown as he pulls out one of his little black notebooks and a pencil from his pocket, slipping on his glasses. Moments later he’s scribbling away. Dale looks from the scientist to Brody and back again, both of them waiting for the inevitable snide remark or angry outburst. It never comes. A full minute passes and he doesn’t so much as acknowledge their presence. Dale can’t decide if that means he heard them and is plotting double homicide, or if his mind is just elsewhere. But the peacemaker in him nudges him to do something to salvage the situation. Clearing his throat, he asks the older man,

“So what did Eli want? Anything important?” He expects Rush to shoot him a firm,

 _I do believe that’s none of your business, Mr Volker_ , but he receives nothing in answer. Rush doesn’t even pause in his writing. Dale raises his eyebrows at Brody, unsure what else to do. The engineer just lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and returns to his work. Dale throws one more confused glance at the Lead Scientist. Then he, too, turns back to his workstation and puts his head down. The bridge is silent for a while after that.

 

xXx

 

“It was bad. Real bad. We had gliders in orbit, entire colonies turning up on our doorstep and begging for sanctuary.” Knocking back his scotch, Telford shakes his head. “For a moment there we thought we were gonna have a war on our hands.” Young stares into his glass, deep in thought, swirling the untouched contents round.

“And not one of them would tell you why?”

“Not a single one.” The twist of a cap, a clink of glass as Telford pours himself another much-needed drink. “There were a couple we thought would crack, but they were always overthrown before we got that far. And the rest of them, when we pressed – they just left. Took off and never came back.” With a deep sigh, Young sets his glass down. He closes his eyes, rubbing tiredly at his brow.

“I can’t believe it,” he mutters, almost as if to himself. Then, to Telford: “You’re sure of this?” Telford nods slowly, his face solemn.

“They’ve abandoned every last base, every outpost that we know of, across half a dozen galaxies. Centuries of power built on fear and enslavement, and in a matter of weeks the whole thing falls apart.” Telford slides the bottle of scotch into his open desk drawer, knowing he’ll be tempted to have another if it remains in his sight. “Last I heard General O’Neill and Professor Jackson were meeting with dignitaries from some of the liberated slave colonies.”

“Let me guess. They want aid.”

“And trading channels. But it’s not gonna happen. No matter how irate the Patrians get.” Draining his glass, Telford pauses; then he adds, “That’s something you should pass on to Ginn. It might be the only good news we can give her.” Young’s mouth twists along with his belly.

“They can’t possibly still be thinking…about incarcerating her,” he murmurs. “Not after everything she’s done.”                

“It’s not my decision, Everett.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“It’s not your decision, either.”

“Then whose?” Telford sighs. He was expecting this. Levelling Young with a sympathetic, almost pleading look, he explains,

“We can’t just go pardoning members of a group responsible for acts of terrorism against the United States. Active or not.” He watches as Dunham’s face clouds over, the tension in the boy’s shoulders growing. He knew Young would be angry. Hell, he would be, too.

“If it wasn’t for Ginn, Eli would be dead,” Young says. “And if it wasn’t for Eli we’d _all_ be dead – ”

“And we’re grateful for her help,” Telford replies, “and that of Lieutenant Varro. But it doesn’t change the fact that – ”

“Ginn is one of us,” Young interrupts. “She and Varro have both proved themselves to be invaluable and irreplaceable members of the crew and I would trust them – both of them – with my life. And you know that’s not a sentiment I allow many people, David.”

Young falls silent after that, not trusting himself to say anything more. If he does, he’ll say something out of line, and he can’t afford to have his leadership questioned again. Not now. Telford is studying him carefully, every line and movement of the body that his friend inhabits. They’ve known each other a long time, he and Everett. Longer than most. That doesn’t count for nothing. Slowly, he asks,

“You’re honestly willing to risk your career for this?” Young nods.

“I am.”

“Okay.” Telford’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

xXx

 

These unoccupied areas of the ship have always unnerved him. Now, though, they make the hair stand up on the back of his neck and a shiver crawl up his spine, just like the first day they arrived aboard _Destiny_. It’s not so much the dark that bothers him, at least not now when he has Ron with him – it’s the _quiet_. Complete and utter silence, save for the light echoes of their wary footsteps and the whispers of their breathing. And it freaks him out. Beside him Greer’s face is a mask of concentration, appearing totally focused on their task. In other spots all over the ship more teams are aiding the security sweep, led by James, Becker, Barnes and a few others. Hopefully their numbers will help speed up the process of checking for any unwanted hitchhikers they may have picked up during the past three years.

 _Although_ , some unsettling part of his mind murmurs, _this ship is so big that there could have been threats here from the beginning_.

Scott shakes himself, and tells the voice to shut up. Now is not the time. He opens yet another door, marked with a chalk line four years ago to indicate that the room was safe to enter. Together they move inside, shining a torch around the interior of a small, empty closet. Nothing. Clear. They close the door behind them as they leave, and continue on down the corridor. Since getting stranded here the crew has only been able to explore a fraction of the ship, and thankfully the sweep won’t require them to explore any further – to even try would be far too dangerous with such limited visibility and ammunition. Brody really needs to get onto making some more bullets. But once they’ve got power back and solved their supplies shortage they’ll have to look at searching _Destiny_ further. They could be here for a long while yet.

Scott tries to imagine what the ship would’ve been like if the Ancients had succeeded in their plans to send out a crew – and then he remembers Eli’s words, Franklin’s revelation that somehow, at some point, _Destiny had_ been manned before her current inhabitants arrived. Someone else once walked these halls back when they were filled with light, on their way to rooms now abandoned to perform duties long forgotten. Other soldiers may have swept the ship’s corridors for threats once upon a time, also stranded perhaps, or else seeking _Destiny_ for their own purposes. Another species, another people, lived aboard this ship first. That thought makes a strange feeling stir in the pit of his stomach, and after a few moments he realises with a sharp kick of surprise what it is: jealousy. For the first time, he actually feels just a tiny bit possessive of this old tin can, and –

“I won’t leave her.” The words pull Scott out of his thoughts so abruptly that they don’t even register at first. He almost starts, gaze flitting to his left to look at his companion.

“Sorry man, what?” Greer carries on walking, scanning the walls for the next door as he repeats,

“I won’t leave her. Lisa. If TJ says it’s permanent.” The Master Sergeant’s intense brown eyes glance over at Scott before looking quickly away. “I won’t leave.”

“Oh.” Scott, too, returns his attention to the corridor in front of them, clearing his throat. He’s not exactly sure how to reply to that, but Greer isn’t the kind of man that just throws his feelings out into the cosmos for no reason. “I know, Ron. We all know that. You’re not that kinda guy.”

“I know,” Greer whispers back. “I just...needed to say it out loud.” His mouth feels very dry all of a sudden, his stomach twisting uncomfortably; _sharing_ isn’t what he does best, and although he swears he’ll never admit it to anyone it makes him pretty nervous to put himself out there and be vulnerable in such a way. Risky. Dangerous. But it’s nothing compared to the dark, smothering fear weighing heavily on his heart. It’s cold and _bad_ and he needs to alleviate it before he suffocates. Fear will never break him, but it just may kill him. “I mean – ” His voice momentarily catches and he coughs quickly to cover it up. “I _mean_...after what Eli did _IguessIfeellikeacoward_.” The words tumble out in a tangled rush and then he clams up, wanting to cringe at his own weakness, at how pathetic he sounds. _Never again_ , he promises himself. He wouldn’t even be saying any of this if Matt wasn’t his best friend, and if he weren’t so damn afraid. _Never again_. Greer hopes that Scott will just nod and carry on, acknowledge his words but leave them be. Only he doesn’t.

The Lieutenant comes to a sudden halt, lowering his gun and swinging the torch up so that he can better see his friend’s face. Matt wants to tell him not to be such an idiot – that if _he’s_ a coward, what does that make the rest of the crew? Part of him is just plain surprised, because Greer as a rule keeps his emotions to himself. And Matt knows that he’ll be kicking himself now for opening up, and that berating him won’t do any good. Greer pauses too, stubbornly refusing to look at the other man as a muscle tightens in his jaw.

“You’re not,” Matt tells him honestly. “You’re one of the bravest guys I know, Ron. You’re human, not a coward.” And then he starts walking again, because he knows the Master Sergeant won’t voice his gratitude whilst he still feels too open. In a flash of torchlight he sees Greer nod once out of the corner of his eye. They continue on down the corridor in silence for a minute or so, still searching for the next door. Matt tries his best to suppress the unease he feels; Greer has every right to be scared about Lisa losing her sight permanently, but being creeped out by the darkness of these unoccupied corridors is just silly, and he needs to stop. _Get it together, Matthew. Stay focused_. “Besides,” he continues quietly. “What Eli did....not everyone would have the guts to do that.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure more, himself or Ron.

“That boy was willing to die for us,” comes Greer’s soft voice from his left, deceivingly steady. “I don’t know, brother. Makes me wonder if I’d have it in me to do the same.” Nodding, Matt sighs as the torchlight finally falls over the outline of a door.

“Me too, man. Me too.”

 

xXx

 

“Let’s share quarters.” The suggestion is out of Ginn’s mouth faster than she registers speaking it, her heart skipping a beat. Standing beside her in the middle of her room, Eli stares at her with wide eyes, mouth dropping open, and Ginn’s stomach lurches. Embarrassment floods through her in waves. _Too soon. What were you thinking?!_ “Nevermind,” she says quickly, quietly, with that uncharacteristic nervousness she only seems to adopt in major matters concerning him. Looking away and folding her arms over her chest, a different kind of flush creeps across her cheeks and she wishes she could bite her tongue off. “It’s nothing. Stupid idea. Ignore me.” _It may technically have been three and a half years since you met, but you spent all but six months of it asleep, and more than half those six months dead or a hologram. Don’t be so hasty._ She clears her throat and is about to launch onto a new topic, anything at all, when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and a hand tentatively touches her elbow. Ginn forces herself to look up at him, wondering how he managed to reduce her to the mental state of a love-struck adolescent. The expression she finds on his face makes her relax instantly. Eli’s smiling, a lop-sided grin with a hint of surprise in his dark eyes.

“I’d like that,” he says, hoping that she hasn’t really changed her mind; he’s unsure of how to proceed, what with his lack of experience in all things romantic, but honesty’s the best policy. Isn’t that what they say? Astonishment sweeps over Ginn’s features and then disappears in a second, but her voice is hushed with disbelief as she replies,

“Really?” He nods.

 _Is it too soon? Does she need more time? It feels like we’ve always been together but maybe she doesn’t feel the same way..._ “Yeah,” Eli answers. He steps closer to move one hand to her hip and the other from her elbow to the curve of her jaw. His thumb brushes her earlobe, her skin warm against his. “I’d like to share quarters with you. If you want.” Her eyes light up, a grin slowly forming on her lips. She’s oblivious to her arms unfolding and her fingers covering his by her ear, twining into the stained material of his shirt.

“I do,” she says. “I do.”

“Okay.” They smile at each other, light laughter escaping them both. Eli chuckles happily before he leans in and kisses her, a sweet kiss that makes his heartbeat jar and her lips tingle. So that’s it, then. _Sharing quarters_. It takes every ounce of strength he has not to deepen the kiss. _Sharing. Living together. Wow._

 

Colonel Young, walking out of the stone room with a tangle of mixed emotions coursing through him, has no idea what he’s interrupting as he puts his radio to his mouth. “Eli, this is Colonel Young, come in.” The burst of static and familiar voice make them break apart reluctantly. Eli reaches for the radio clipped to his belt, whilst Ginn tries to hide the massive smile on her face. Freeing the device, Eli says into the receiver,

“Uh, yeah, here. You weren’t gone long.”

“Thankfully my...presence wasn’t required. Everything back home is fine.” He doesn’t need to hear the genius’ sigh of relief. They’ve all been worried, whether they showed it or not. “In fact,” Young continues, nodding at two civilians he barely notices pass him by in the dark, “I spoke with Colonel Telford. As a...reward for your bravery, with the pods...you’ll be the first person allowed to use the stones later today.” If possible Eli’s smile only grows, a flash of excitement running through him. Grinning, he meets Ginn’s eyes as he asks,

“What, no gold stars?” The corner of Young’s mouth lifts up at the mock-disappointment in the younger man’s tone, and his crackling laughter floats back to Eli along the airwaves. “Is Ginn there?” Moments later a light, distinctly female voice responds,

“Yes, Colonel?” He hesitates, just for a second – he knows he can’t keep the arrest risk from her forever. Or from Varro, for that matter. The part of him that belongs to the military pushes him to tell her now, get it over and done with before it has the chance to further complicate matters. But that urge is quickly drowned out by the part of him that can’t bear to throw bad news on Ginn so soon after what just happened, when there’s something much, much better to tell her.

“Telford had some news about the Lucians.” In her quarters, Ginn looks at Eli and licks her lip, heart beginning to thud in her chest. Immediately her mind jumps to all sorts of awful conclusions regarding her family, regarding Varro, even though the Colonel’s tone is anything but sombre. She holds Eli’s gaze as she presses her thumb down on the button and murmurs,

“Yes?”

 

“They have...good reason to believe that the...Lucian Alliance has collapsed. There have been reports of leaders fleeing from their posts and...of widespread mutiny. We don’t know where they’re all going but they’ve abandoned every, last, shred of territory they’ve got, including Lucia. Which means that your home planet, Patria, is free.” The words ring out across the room clear as a bell. Unmistakeable. They taper off into a silence so thick that Ginn can feel it forcing its way down her throat, into her lungs, stealing her ability to breathe. Her pulse thunders deafeningly in her ears. She barely notices Eli slipping the radio from her numb fingers and raising it to his lips, his voice less than steady when he speaks.

“ _What?_ ” And then there are those words again, each one as impossible as the last,

“The Lucian Alliance has collapsed. Patria is free.” Eli feels his own heart stop and restart in his chest. He watches Ginn, staring right at him, completely frozen in shock. And then she suddenly remembers how to breathe. Air fills her lungs in one sharp, wild gasp, hazel eyes flooding with more emotion than he has ever seen on one single face. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t shriek, doesn’t cry – a small, choked noise escapes her, and she folds in on herself like a crumpled paper cut-out. Eli catches her in his arms as her knees buckle, taking her full weight; the radio and Colonel Young are forgotten in the face of how her fingers dig desperately into his shoulders and her breath filters out shakily against his chest.

 

xXx

 

The view from the observation deck never fails to take her breath away. Even now, as she sits here wondering exactly what she has left on Earth worth going home to, Camile can’t help but gaze in awe at the flow of purples and blues and whites and subtle greens that rush steadily over the ship. Beautiful. And tempting. So tempting to reach out and try to touch it. So, so tempting to stay here forever and just...watch.

“I wish I could see it.” A quiet voice from her right snaps Camile out of her thoughts. She looks over at Lisa, sitting beside her on the comfortable little sofa; Park reaches up and removes her sunglasses, folding them carefully in her lap, but of course it makes no difference. She stares out at where she knows the FTL stream is passing by and sees nothing but black. Complete and utter darkness, all-consuming. Terrifying. Out of all the people on this ship, she is the only one who can truly fathom just how scared Eli must have been in his two weeks alone. It’s the same fear that she lives with every waking moment in her new, sightless world. Clearing her throat, Lisa clarifies, “The FTL shimmers, I mean. I used to watch them for...hours, it felt like. When I needed to think.” It was almost a habit really. One of the few things that helped keep her sane, especially in the early days. Something brushes her arm, and moments later she feels a cold hand wrap around one of hers.

“You will again, someday soon,” comes Camile’s voice, and Lisa has to admire the effort that the woman must have put in to sound so confident, so sincere, when she is clearly upset for reasons of her own. It’s easy for Lisa to tell – since losing her sight she’s become more receptive to the information given away by other senses, the clues hidden in long silences and uneven breaths. Turning her hand up to capture her friend’s fingers and return the gesture, a weak smile tugs up the corners of her mouth.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “That’s nice of you to say.” Camile tries to smile, tries to find a reason to be happy that’s come out of their time in stasis, but she can’t. She finds nothing. They’re still stranded out here and Lisa’s still blind and the only thing that’s changed is that some of them don’t have anything – _anyone_ – to go home to anymore. Like herself.

The truth of that thought shakes her, rattles the usually solid foundations of who she is. No one to go home to. Nothing to go home for.

 

xXx

 

“Well, I think that’s everything.” Eli surveys the two small piles of his things with satisfaction, brushing imaginary dust off his ruined shirt. It didn’t take long to separate his belongings into two categories: documentary and work stuff to leave here – his kino and panel, the laptop – and everything else, packed neatly for moving out. A little jolt runs through him at that thought. _Moving out_. The words sound almost foreign to him, because he’s never done this before, even if he’s technically only changing bedrooms. It’s not like moving out of the _ship_ is an actual option (not for lack of wishing). Ginn sits on the edge of his bunk, his large black backpack in her lap. She watches him fondly as he stands at his workstation, studying by torchlight the collage of kino stills that paper the wall above it.

“I can shift it all to my quarters while you’re gone,” she says, “so it’s sorted when you get back.” Eli turns his gaze to her, absent-mindedly running his fingers over keys and raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really? You don’t have to, I mean...I can give you a hand with it later.” Ginn politely declines with a shake of her head.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine. I could really use the distraction.” He gives a quiet, nervous chuckle.

“Yeah...tell me about it.” The corner of her mouth tugs up in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. Eli’s due in the stone room in just twenty minutes, and although they have yet to say it out loud his impending trip to Earth has them both feeling uncomfortably anxious. Not to mention he aches, all over, like he’s been hit by a truck. TJ warned him about feeling rough. Ginn toys with the zip of the bag to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

 _What if something goes wrong? What if his mother’s condition has declined? What if he’s hurt or can’t come back?_ Eli pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans as his stomach ties itself in knots.

 _What if there’s trouble when I’m away? What if mom’s not alright? What if something happens to Ginn because I’m not here to protect her?_ He tries to tell himself not to be so stupid, that he can’t keep worrying himself sick every time they’re apart or else he’ll go crazy, for real this time. Less than two feet away, Ginn is silently thinking the same thing of herself. And then a knock at the door breaks them out of their thoughts.

They share a glance, unsure as to who would come looking for either one of them when they can both easily be reached via Eli’s radio. Brow creasing in confusion, Eli moves to the door and pushes the control on the wall to open it. His features immediately smooth out again when he sees who’s standing on the other side. “Oh, hey.” Twisting her fingers together, lips pressed into a tight line, Chloe’s blue eyes are bright and full of an emotion that he can’t name, but that makes something wrench worriedly in his chest. She forces a smile when he greets her, but the mumbled,

“Hey, Eli,” she replies with is weak and far from cheerful. Then her gaze flickers to Ginn and her fake face calls, collapsing into apology and embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she rushes out, “I didn’t know you had...didn’t mean to intrude...I’ll just come back later – ” She turns to leave, but is stopped by a call of,

“No, please, stay.” Standing, Ginn offers the older woman a small, reassuring smile as she slides Eli’s backpack from her lap. “It’s okay, I’ll give you two a minute.” She walks out of the room, brushing her hand _ever_ -so-slightly against Eli’s as she passes, and closes the door behind her without another word. No sooner has the door shut than Chloe moves, and Eli doesn’t even have time to get a word out before she’s on him, arms thrown around his neck and face hidden against his shoulder.

“Woah, _hey_ ,” he says gently, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame, more than a little startled. “What’s wrong?” In response she lets out a noise that sounds far too much like a muffled sob for his comfort. He’s at a total loss, because although he’s seen Chloe upset before she’s never been anything like _this_ , never clung to him so desperately, never wept into him like a lost child. The only time he’s ever seen her in such a state was from a distance, right after her dad sealed himself inside the damaged pod and – _oh_. Eli relaxes into her, the breath leaving him in a sharp, quiet _whoosh_ as realisation dawns on him, and she chokes out into his jacket,

“ _You_.” It all falls into place, then: her peculiar silence, the weak hug she’d given him, the way she avoided his gaze as if he’d hurt her somehow. He curses himself, because he should’ve known what the matter was right away. He nearly died and now Chloe’s...she’s... _this_. Swallowing, Eli tightens his hold on her and presses his nose into her hair, fighting a lump of emotion suddenly forming in his throat. Of course she’s upset. If their roles were reversed, if _he_ had been the one to wake up and think that she had...that she...He closes his eyes and represses a shudder. He loves Chloe, though not the way he did before. She’s his best friend, like the sister he never had – he can’t bear the idea of anything happening to her. A soft, gentle noise falls from his lips as he hushes her, and for a split second he is painfully reminded of the fight he and Ginn had over which one of them most deserved to live.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It’s then that Eli realises Chloe’s speaking again, mumbling and sobbing incoherently against his shoulder. He strains his ears to try and distinguish the words, because he seriously doubts that he’d be able to prise her from him long enough to understand. Seconds later he finds out that, surprisingly, he _is_ able (with a great deal of effort) when he catches a whimper of,

“ _SorryI’msorryforeverythingI’mahorriblepersonEliI’msorrypleaseforgiveme_.” His hands grab her upper arms and pushing her away is like trying to force apart two magnets, but he does it, and he stares at her in incredulity as he tells her,

“Chloe, it was _not_ your fault, you never did _anything_ wrong.” She looks up at him, holding her in place, blue eyes turned red from crying and bottom lip trembling almost as badly as the rest of her body.

“But I did!” she half-sobs, “I did, I did so many _horrible_ things!” Gasping in a breath, tears cascade down her cheeks and all Eli can do is _stare_ at her in total confusion and shock. Only Chloe doesn’t seem to notice; she releases the breath dangerously fast and carries on, her voice wobbling, “I broke your heart and then went behind your back with the mutiny and I was _stupid_ and I hurt you – ” she starts to get louder, the way she usually does when she’s upset, and outside in the corridor Ginn’s expression clouds over in concern and her lips press together, “ – and then you met Ginn and I couldn’t like her because I was so _jealous_ and then she died and I felt so _cruel_ – ” Eli’s mouth goes dry and he squeezes his eyes shut against _terrible_ memories, “ – and she came back in my body but you couldn’t be with her because of _me_ and because of _me_ you had to make her a hologram and you nearly _died and I never got to saygoodbyetellyouI’msorryIloveyouIhatemyself and I’m. So. Sorry._ ” Chloe falls into him again, then, and he lets her, blinking hard, trying to process it all over her loud sobbing as his eyes open and his heart aches. It takes him a few moments to collect himself. And then he says firmly, thickly,

“Chloe, look at me.” She continues to cry, fingers clinging tightly to his clothes. “ _Chloe_.” Whether it’s his tone or just repetition, he doesn’t know, but it makes her lift her head enough for him to meet her gaze – and he does, earnestly, urgently. “I _forgive_ you for all of that,” he breathes, “Not that there’s anything _to_ forgive. I didn’t die. I’m right here. Always will be. It’s _alright_. _Breathe_.” A long second ticks by, and he thinks she might collapse back into hysterics. But, miraculously, she seems to have cried herself out. She nods once, hiccupping and sniffling, obediently drawing in a slow, steady lungful of air. Eli reaches up and brushes her tears away with his cuff as she lets the breath out and takes another one. After a few more of those she appears to have calmed down considerably, and with an internal sigh of relief he draws her back to him in a far more relaxed hug. She sighs into his shoulder,

“Okay,” and he nods in agreement.

A little dazed, Eli wonders if it was maybe shock that caused the hysteria, or some kind of panic attack, perhaps. But whatever it was, he hopes it never happens again.

 

xXx

 

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come with?” Eli pauses with the communication stone held lightly in his fingers, looking up at Ginn where she stands beside him. “You can still change your mind...?” He looks so earnest, so hopeful, that she almost does. She knows him well enough now to recognise the fear in his eyes, buried under the other emotions there – and she doesn’t have it in her to tell Eli that using the stones to visit Earth with him may result in her arrest. So instead Ginn smiles, softly, and replies as gently as she can,

“I’m sure, _sah_. I want the first time I meet your mother to be in person.” It’s true. She isn’t prepared to flat-out lie to him unless she has to. “And anyway, you deserve this moment.” Also true. Eli’s eyes travel over her features intently, taking her in, less gauging her honesty and more simply trying to memorise her face. The faintest of worry lines crease his brow for a second, then are gone, and he gives a small smile.

“Okay. I’ll see you...I’ll be back soon.” The smile almost falters as he nearly speaks the three words he’ll hate for the rest of his life, words that remind him of the worst pain he could ever possibly feel. But Ginn, sharing this thought, doesn’t allow the twinge in her chest to get to her. Leaning down, she brushes her lips against his, ignoring the fact that they aren’t alone. Quick, but electric. Just enough to reassure without embarrassing. Her fingers find his curls, other hand brushing her own hair behind her ear as she presses a sweeter, more lingering kiss to his forehead. A faint pink hue stains his cheeks when she pulls away.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you.” Hazel-brown eyes meet his, and her voice is soft as she murmurs, “Make sure that you...please...” Eli swallows, holding her gaze unfalteringly.

“I will,” he promises. “I’ll always come back.” Her eyelashes flutter, letting the words sink in, savouring them, clinging to them. And then, reluctantly, she has to let go.

She steps back from the table and wraps her arms around herself. Eli looks to Colonel Young, who nods at him from the corner, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, touching the stone to the plate. His eyelids snap open again almost immediately, flickering around at the three other occupants of the room, his hand lifting from the stone. The Colonel steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “Corporal Dunham?” Standing, the soldier in Eli’s body nods and flashes a grin, straightening up.

“Yes, sir.” The older man’s lips twitch in a hint of a smile.

“I’m Colonel Young,” he explains. “You met Mr Robinson earlier – ” he gestures to the technician sitting by the stones at the table, “ – and this is Ginn.” Dunham inclines his head to both of them with a polite,

“Sir. Ma’am.” Ginn can instantly tell that he must be young; younger than Eli, her own age even, judging from that grin and the way his tone rings with barely-suppressed excitement. She tries her best to smile at him, to hide how unnerving it is to look at her partner (she needs to get used to _boyfriend_ , the Earth term still sounds so strange on the tip of her tongue) and know it’s someone else inside.

“You are currently inhabiting the body of Eli Wallace our, resident Boy Genius. Try not to damage him. His body needs rest, as I’m sure you can tell.” Eli... _Dunham_ , goes suddenly still, brown orbs widening, obviously having heard of _Destiny_ ’s Math Boy before. But the Colonel continues. “Welcome back aboard the _Destiny_.” To his credit, the Corporal recovers himself quickly. Eli’s features light up in a beam.

“Thank you, sir.” And he and Robinson disappear from the room, stone case in tow, heading off down the corridor as the technician recommends the observation deck as a good place to relax. Ginn and Young are left alone.

Finally, she allows the smile to slide from her face. Her shoulders droop and her eyes move to the chair where, hardly two minutes ago, _Eli_ was sitting in his own body. He’ll only be gone for a few hours, but she misses him already. “What’s going to happen if Varro and I are arrested when you all return to Earth?” she asks without looking up, straight to the point. No reason to dance around the big issue here, the one that she knows Young is equally aware of. “They wanted to, when I was speaking with Homeworld Command. But because I was in Dr Perry’s body, with her medical requirements...” The Colonel doesn’t even flinch or seem surprised by her words – all he does is shift his gaze from the doorway to her. But there’s an honesty in his voice when he replies,

“You’ll both be detained, pending interrogation and trial.” He hopes that’s all that would happen, especially considering the services she and Varro have done the crew and the people of Earth. “But Colonel Telford and I will do our best not to let that happen, Ginn, I promise you.” The corner of her mouth tugs upwards for just a second, into a more real, faint smile, and her hazel-brown eyes find his.

“I know, Colonel. Thank you.” _No sense in ruining a good day with pointless worry. Nothing you can do about it now._ They part ways, Ginn deciding that she might as well get on with moving Eli’s things into her quarters. She leaves Young in the stone room as he radios around, letting people know Corporal Dunham has come aboard before heading back to his office.

 

xXx

 

“This the last one?” Greer gestures to the door with the nose of his gun, looking over at his companion for an answer.

“Yeah, should be,” Matt replies, and as he shines the torch beam over the door he touches a hand to the surface. “No chalk.” The cool metal is indeed free from markings of any kind, but that hardly matters anymore. In their absence rooms that they previously declared safe could easily have been compromised in any number of ways. Still, saying it out loud helps him focus on the task at hand, rather than on how being in this unfrequented part of the ship in near-darkness gives him the creeps. He nearly jumped out of his skin ten minutes ago when Brody radioed to tell them about a ‘celebratory gathering’ tonight at his Bar. Stepping to the side, Matt moves his hand over to the button on the wall. Glancing at Greer and tightening his grip on his gun, he asks, “You ready?” He can’t remember what was in this room, and with the ship’s systems down there’s no way he can just radio Dale and get him to check. Greer nods in response, lifting his weapon to his shoulder and aiming at the door, trigger finger poised to shoot.

 _Ready_.

Turning back to the button, Matt takes a steadying breath, one of many over the past few, tense hours. Adrenaline starts pumping in anticipation, but he remains calm and concentrates. Then he pushes down, and as the door slides open he moves back to stand beside Greer. In sync they cautiously inch forward. Matt brings the torch up and sweeps light over the contents of the room: a sizeable bed, a few cupboards, a small mirror on the wall. A quick inspection from inside the doorway confirms that the quarters are as devoid of life as they were three years ago. Lowering their weapons, the lieutenant lets out a breath of something close to relief whilst Greer takes in their dark surroundings.

“Looks like we’re all clear,” he comments.

“Yeah. That’s our section done.” Together they turn and walk back out into the corridor, closing the door behind them, and as he pulls out their radio Matt hopes the other teams have been just as lucky. “Come in James, this is Lieutenant Scott, what’s your report?” he says into the radio moments later. James only takes a few seconds to reply.

“All clear here, sir,” she answers. “We’re just wrapping up. We re-chalked the doors with faded markings as we went along, stop us getting confused later on.” Greer and Matt exchange looks of surprise; why hadn’t they thought of that?

“That’s great work Lieutenant,” Matt tells her, honestly. “Report back to the Colonel when you’re done.”

“Yes sir.” Barnes, Dunning and Becker all report no problems for their teams, and Scott calls an end to the security sweep. He and Greer hurry away from the unoccupied areas of the ship as quickly and subtly as they can, eager to be back among the rest of the crew. They part ways once they start to pass by fellow crew members, with Greer needing to find Lisa for her check-up with TJ and Matt saying he’ll swing by Young’s office to deliver their report, on the way to his quarters. He wishes Ron luck before he leaves, clapping him on the back affectionately and reassuring him that no matter what, it will all be okay. Greer nods, and tries to smile, and thanks him – but his best friend’s words do nothing to ease the weight of pure dread descending on his heart as he walks away.

 

xXx

 

 _How anyone_ , Ginn thinks as she carefully lowers the last crate to the floor, _can accumulate this much stuff aboard a ship is beyond me_. Straightening up, she runs a hand over her forehead and huffs out a breath, surveying Eli's things now deposited in a corner of her... _their_...room. Two small crates, full of project-y things she assumes, plus a large backpack. Not to mention all the stuff that he's decided to leave in his newly-declared 'office'. Ginn smiles, a little thrill of excitement running through her: she and Eli, sharing _quarters_. It's not exactly going to make that much difference to their relationship – they're together 90% of the time, anyway – but it still makes her grin like an idiot and her stomach do funny somersaults. She'd shake her head at her own silliness if she wasn't so _happy_. And then she snorts, moving over to make the bed, because 'happy' doesn't quite cut it. Delighted? Ecstatic? 'Over-the-moon' doesn't come close. Do they even _have_ a word in English for how insanely _good_ she feels right now?

 _No_ , she decides, _probably not_. Beaming, Ginn smoothes out the bedcovers and tries desperately to resist the urge to jump up and down.

 _The Lucian Alliance has collapsed. Patria is free_.

Free. Her people are _free_. She wants to cry. She wants to sob and laugh and dance and weep and sing all at once, torn between two extremes of the same emotion – pure bliss, _spera_ , because if her family are alive then they are finally safe, safe from harm, safe from night raids and starvation and slavery. And then tears, because all the suffering she and the rest of her people endured throughout the past fifteen years of Lucian rule is _over_ , no more pain for those she loves, no more fear, and...there are no words, in English or Patrian or in any of the languages she has come to know, to describe how it feels. Ginn pauses at the foot of the bed, raising trembling hands to her mouth and feeling the grin beneath her fingertips. _Free_.

 

"Still sinking in, I see." The voice from the open doorway makes her turn, startled, but her expression doesn't slip: Varro is standing there, smiling warmly with his arms folded across his chest. Ginn's only response is to cross the space between them and hurl herself at the older man in a tight hug. Laughing, he wraps his arms around her shoulders. “You won’t believe how quickly it’s spreading round the ship,” he says. “I’m happy for you, _ahna_.” And he means it. He owes a lot to the Alliance, but what the units stationed in the Felis Galaxy did to Patria and some of her neighbouring planets...it’s unforgivable, and after everything she’s been through Ginn deserves this. So he’s happy for her, even if it means enduring the wary looks he’s been getting from some of the more distrustful members of the crew for the past hour. But there are other reasons why he shouldn’t be so joyful. He allows himself a sigh. “So, I guess this means you’ll be going home, instead of Earth?” Ginn lets out something that sounds like a small chuckle, followed by a sharp breath as she tries to get a grip on her emotions. Seeing him has made her feel suddenly tearful.

“No,” she answers quietly. “I’m still going with you to Earth.” Varro’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips parting in surprise. He releases his hold on her and she pulls back, brushing at her watery eyes. Taking in a steadying lungful of air, she forces herself to smile as she explains her choice. “I don’t even know if my family are still alive. But if they are, it would break their hearts if I went back and then left a second time. And I can’t leave Eli.” He looks far more shocked than she thought he would, and a tendril of guilt starts to curl in her chest, smothering the unadulterated elation she felt only moments ago. With anyone else she would stand her ground, but this is Varro – she can’t hold his gaze. Looking away, Ginn turns and moves, sitting down on the end of the bed. “I know it seems selfish,” she continues in a murmur. “But it’s the only way I can avoid hurting someone I love.” For a few long minutes they simply look at each other, two people who have both lost everything through no fault of their own, tried to rebuild their lives among relative strangers on the other side of the universe. Varro knows he’d do anything to have his family back, even just for a moment; given the opportunity to be with them again, he’d take it in a heartbeat. If it weren’t for Ginn. Now that he feels responsible for her, now that she’s the closest thing to family he has out here, he knows he’d hesitate. He wouldn’t be able to leave her.

The bed sinks down gently under his weight. Nodding, Varro’s expression softens and he offers her a small smile.

“If that’s what you feel is right,” he says, “then that’s what you need to do.” The corner of Ginn’s mouth curves up, anxious features relaxing.

“Thank you, Varro.” He nods once more and a not-uncomfortable silence falls between them as he sweeps his gaze over the heap of belongings nearby. Eli’s things, he guesses, and this knowledge makes him glad. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Ginn’s smile is warm, her eyes studying him with that knowing look of hers, as if she can tell that he has more on his mind. Varro opens his mouth to speak, the words right there on the tip of his tongue – and freezes. For what seems like an eternity they simply look at one another, side by side for the first time in months, and just for a moment he wonders if his biological sister would have grown up to be anything like the one sitting next to him. Had she lived. Ginn watches him patiently and he wants to tell her how amazing it feels to have her back, how it was agony to lose her and not be able to mourn: he had a facade to maintain and soldiers under his command, and he couldn’t afford to risk them interpreting his grief as weakness. Except now they’re all dead.

_Life is loss, after all._

He wants to apologise for failing her the way he failed Sera, for the one day he didn’t protect her after two years of keeping her safe. He blames himself. Varro meets Ginn’s eyes and wants to tell her that he loves her, that she’s the only family he has out here and that he’s glad she isn’t leaving him. But he doesn’t. He sees the happiness and the joy buzzing inside her and he can’t bring himself to cloud her hope with his heartaches.

“No,” he murmurs in answer. “Just that.” Immediately his eyes flicker down to his hands, clasped in his lap, because the look in Ginn’s eyes tells him she doesn’t believe a word of it. But her smile doesn’t falter. She knows he’ll tell her in his own time.

“Okay,” is all she says, voice lowered to a whisper. Another wordless minute or so passes, and then Varro remembers he was headed somewhere else when he passed by. His heart jumps into his mouth; he’s been contemplating this all morning, driven himself half-mad trying to think of a reason why he shouldn’t do it – but it’s not in his nature to be selfish, and after hours of pacing his quarters he’d finally gathered all his courage and set off to do the right thing. The sooner he does it the sooner he can move on. Well. Try to.

“I’d better get going,” he mumbles, reluctant but determined. “There’s something I gotta take care of.”

“Alright...you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Varro tries to smile and stands, but before he can take more than one step towards the doorway smaller fingers curl around his, holding him in place. When he looks down in surprise Ginn is smiling up at him, her features soft. “Whatever it is that’s on your mind,” she begins, “Anthea would be proud of you.” Something distant but familiar clenches in his chest at the mention of his wife’s name. He finds it strangely comforting. “Sera, too.” The corner of his lips turning up, he nearly opens his mouth to ask about Lukim. He decides against it at the last second...he disappointed his brother long ago. That broken part of his life is beyond repair.

“I’ll see you tonight at Brody’s party,” he tells her gently, and with a nod she unfurls her hand from his. She watches him go with a funny feeling in her heart, and hopes that one day Varro will be able to forgive himself the past.

 

xXx

 

Chloe stops outside the bridge, pausing a moment to try and compose herself before going in. She takes a deep breath, lets it out, brushes carefully at her cheeks in case any stray tears have slipped through the cracks. _Pull it together, Chloe_. She still feels quivery and fragile, as though if someone were to grab her and shake she’d rattle like something had come loose deep inside. In a way that’s exactly how it feels: as if some part of her simply broke off, detached from the rest the moment she heard Eli’s voice say those _awful_ words, and is now sitting heavy and cold and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Part of her heart, maybe. Part of her soul.

 _I didn’t want it to end like this_.

She almost lost him. She almost lost her best friend. Clearing her throat lightly, Chloe bites down hard on the inside of her cheek as her eyes start to sting. No, no more crying. That one hour thinking... _believing_ Eli was gone was indescribable, but it’s alright now. He’s alive. He’s okay. She sucks in another steadying lungful of air and releases it slowly, pretending that the twisting ache she feels is sighed out along with it. Time to move on.

“Can I help with anything?” Chloe deliberately sweeps her gaze around the room as Brody and Dale both look up at the sound of her voice, feeling like a mess and reluctant to make eye contact. Every part of the bridge still looks remarkably clean and shiny, as if mere days have passed instead of years. Moving over to one of the nearby chairless control panels, she runs her fingers over the surface in an attempt to disguise the shake in her hands. No dust. Does dust even exist out here? She’s never really noticed before. She’ll have to pay more attention. The thick silence of the room is becoming awkward now – she doesn’t have to be facing them to know that Dale and Brody are turning to Rush, expecting him to answer. He won’t. His attention is fixed on the control panel of the command chair, hunched over in his seat, working. Either he didn’t register her speaking or he’s ignoring her. Most likely the latter option, she knows, but doesn’t take offence.

“Uh...” Realising that Rush isn’t going to reply, Dale swivels round in his chair and tries to hide his surprise: he didn’t think Chloe would turn up on the bridge so soon. If he’s honest with himself he still finds it a little strange having her on the science team. Despite knowing that she’s perfectly capable of working with them after whatever it was those blue aliens did to her, having worked with Brody, Lisa, Eli and even Ginn for much longer it’ll take some getting used to her being part of the group. Thrown, he searches for something Chloe can do. “Um....uh...” As Brody rolls his eyes at his friend’s bumbling and turns back to his workstation, Dale curses the limited power – then he has an idea. He sifts through the small stack of papers on his panel and pulls out a few half-filled pages from the centre.

“Here,” he says as he grabs a spare pencil and stands, crossing the room quickly. “I started on these equations earlier but kept hitting dead ends. You should be able to solve them no problem.” He holds out the papers and pen to Chloe with a smile. It falters when she doesn’t even look up as she takes the items from him, mumbling a thank you. She immediately puts pencil to paper, leaning on the panel and starting to scribble a series of symbols he doesn’t recognise under the first unsolved equation. Her shining black curls hide her face from view and her free hand presses hard against the page to cover up the trembling. Dale can’t help it; he hovers, hesitating, where he stands. He may be one of the more unassuming members of the crew, but he’s not stupid. The instant she walked in he picked up on the redness of her eyes, the slight pink tinge to the end of her nose, the shake in her fingertips as they tugged aimlessly at her sleeve. She’s been crying. Quite a lot, by the look of it, and he doesn’t have to be a genius to know why.

 _I didn’t want it to end like this_.

Matt probably doesn’t know. Brody won’t ask – not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s not always so comfortable dealing with emotions, especially those of other people. And Rush is firmly blocking out the situation. Dale shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. They may not be particularly close, and he’s willing to bet that she just wants to be left alone, but Chloe _is_ his friend. He has to ask.

“You okay?” The question is quiet, gentle, little more than a murmur. She’d be surprised if Brody could distinguish the words. To her, though, they are clear as crystal, and unmistakeably sincere. The pencil stills and the ache in her stomach throbs unpleasantly. But she keeps it together. Lifting her head, Chloe forces a small, not-quite-genuine smile and holds Dale’s gaze as steadily as she can.

“I will be,” she tells him. “Just....” and now her strength slips for a second, “...Eli.” Chloe’s voice almost cracks on the name before it gives up completely, dying in her throat, leaving her unable to explain further. So she swipes her tongue across her bottom lip, falling silent. But Dale gets it. He gets it because he feels it, too, no matter how much he may joke around to try and recover some sense of normality. He nods, just once, and touches his fingers lightly to the point of her elbow in a subtle gesture of comfort, and without a word returns to his seat and his papers.

 

xXx

 

He’s used to trepidation, to dread and fear; as a soldier it was something he faced on a near-daily basis, knowing that any mission could be his last, that he was willingly walking into danger. It was why Anthea never approved of his being in the Alliance, even though more often than not the resulting adrenaline rushes were what kept him alive. He lived with these feelings every day for eighteen years, every day since the age of fifteen, but never quite like this. His mouth feels suddenly parched, his stomach fluttering and twisting as if he’s swallowed a swarm of dima dragons; or butterflies, isn’t that the Earth equivalent? Either way, the sensation isn’t pleasant at all. Varro hesitates in the infirmary doorway, watching the beautiful blonde medic organising her equipment on one of the examination tables. It occurs to him, as his heavy heart lurches into his throat, that he doesn’t have to go through with this. He could just turn and leave now, before she sees him, and she’d be none the wiser. For a second the impulse to do so is stifling, all-consuming. Then he shakes himself.

 _Don’t be a coward. Don’t be so selfish_.

He announces his presence with a soft knock on the door. TJ looks up immediately at the noise, stilling in the middle of fiddling with her tools. She’s been trying in vain to distract herself from thinking about Lisa’s looming check-up – what she’s going to tell the scientist if the blindness is permanent, if there’s any conceivable means of further treatment – but at the sight of him her worry eases just a fraction. His presence has that effect. The anxious lines fade from her brow and her lips curve up into a small smile, and Varro finds this hurts him even more than he anticipated.

“Hey,” TJ says gently, sounding (he can’t help but note) relieved to see him. With what feels like almost superhuman effort he walks casually into the room, forcing out a weak,

“Hey,” in reply. He comes to a stop in front of her and makes himself say the words before he loses his nerve: “I can’t do this anymore.”

Immediately TJ’s frown returns, eyebrows drawing together as she turns to face him.

“What?” Varro looks at her standing there barely three feet away and is once again seized by the urge to flee, to brush it off as a moment of madness and carry on like normal. Blue eyes are fixed on him in confusion and it makes something in him twist, but not for the usual reasons.

“I’m not going to come between you and Young any longer,” he says as confidently as he can. “I don’t exactly approve of the way he’s been acting towards you: he overlooks you and you deserve to be treated better than that. You deserve to be treated like a Queen – ” Varro breaks off, colour rising in his cheeks, and TJ bites down on her lip. Her arms wrap around her middle and he hurries on, deciding that this feeling – this nervous, unsettling self-awareness he hasn’t felt since Anthea – is far too uncomfortable for his liking. “But I do notice how it makes you feel, and I know it’s because you’re still in love with him, and you have enough to worry about without the question of choosing between us hanging over you...” Once they start, the words won’t stop tumbling out, one after another like a chain of confessions.

Varro doesn’t confess that he thinks _he_ might have fallen in love with her; it could sway her affections in his favour and that would defeat the purpose of this whole conversation. But he tells her about Anthea. About how they met when he was sixteen, just a new recruit in the Alliance who’d been transferred to another post in the galaxy, away from his older brother. How it was instant. How they grew up and married and fought and laughed a lot, how no amount of bickering could ever drive a permanent wedge between them. The universe always dragged them back together, like two magnets. He sees that kind of love in TJ and Young, as reluctant as he is to admit it. There’ll be no coming between them. Even if one day Young is no longer what she wants, he’ll always be what TJ needs. Varro shouldn’t try to compete with that. Besides, maybe he’ll be able to find that kind of love again someday. When he’s finished, the medic looks up at him with an unnameable emotion in her eyes. The crease in her forehead has deepened.

“I...” she begins quietly, but her voice seems to fail her. She clears her throat and tries again. “Are...are you sure?” He swallows, his uniform feeling too tight and too hot under her scrutiny. It takes a moment to form an answer.

“Yes.” TJ sucks in a little breath at this. A soft gasp.

“Okay.” It’s so hushed, barely even a whisper. Just for a moment, a fleeting second, she looks almost _hurt_ , disappointed – something twinges painfully inside him. But then her expression lightens and the crease disappears, as if a cloud has lifted from her face. “Okay.” Silence falls in the infirmary. Varro tries desperately to think of something more to say, a way to move on and make sure that he hasn’t just damaged their friendship beyond repair. But in the end TJ saves him the worry. Slowly – _cautiously?_ – she moves forward and leans up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his cheek. His eyelashes flutter involuntarily at the sensation: he’ll have to stop doing that, now. When she pulls back she isn’t smiling, but she seems relieved of a burden somehow. Just a little brighter. “Thank you.”

James is on her way back from reporting to Young when she catches sight of Varro minutes later, standing outside the infirmary with his back pressed to the wall, looking pensive and far away, his eyes fixed on the floor. She slows to a halt at the end of the corridor, curious. As her gaze sweeps up and down his sombre form a tendril of concern blooms in her chest.

“James?” Twenty feet down the passage to her right Becker and Dunning have realised that she’s no longer with them and paused, looking back. She glances from the two soldiers to Varro, and then back again.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” They shrug and Becker throws a small wave her way. They vanish out of sight around the corner. James returns her attention to the Lucian man nearby, and starts in the opposite direction towards him. “Hey,” she calls out as she gets closer. “You okay?” The sound of her voice seems to break into his thoughts: he lifts his head in surprise, before managing to school his expression into the same weary smile worn by most of the other people aboard the ship.

“Yes,” he replies, “I’m fine.”

“Long morning, huh?” He lets out one of his husky chuckles.

“Yeah. Very long morning.” Now that she’s reached him, James feels strangely unsure of herself. She pushes her hands into her pockets. Varro straightens up, taking in a breath and shaking himself out of his odd mood. “I think I might go for a walk,” he says, and although he was really just speaking to himself James nods. The movement draws his attention. He decides, then, that some company is all that will keep his mind distracted. “Care to join me?”

 

xXx

 

When Greer comes to find Lisa for her check-up, Camile is still lost in her thoughts of home. She manages a weak smile in response to his nod of thanks, noting his furrowed brow and pursed lips, and finds herself wondering if perhaps this ship will simply break all them one by one until there is nothing left. Then she starts, and curses at herself in the lone darkness of the observation desk, and makes a concerted effort to pull it together; no matter what awaits her on Earth, it is no more certain than what lies in store for her out here. And she can’t allow herself to give up yet.

 

xXx

 

For what feels like the longest time, Eli simply stares at the familiar door in front of him. The soldier waiting in the car is probably watching him like he’s some kind of crazy person – and honestly, with everything he’s been through, Eli wouldn’t be surprised if he was. Aliens, spaceships, stasis, losing people...well, it’s kind of a lot for one person to deal with. And The Last Starfighter _really_ didn’t help prepare him for any of it. He’s changed so much over the past year aboard _Destiny_. _Four years_ , he corrects himself, _asleep or not_. Something tells him he’s going to have trouble remembering to include the lost time. _And speaking of time_....It’s not as if he has all day. Taking a breath, Eli does a mental review of his host body as he steps forward and knocks on the door; ash-blonde, green-eyed, average build and average height. The black stitching over his right breast reads _Dunham_ and he’s spent enough time around soldiers now to recognise the uniform of a Corporal. Nothing at all like himself. But it doesn’t matter. What he looks like isn’t important. Faint footsteps from inside the house make his heart jump, adrenaline starting to rush. It’s ridiculous, but suddenly he feels nervous. Like a stranger. How much has changed whilst they were asleep? Is his mom any better? Is she happy?

But when the door opens and Eli finds himself faced with the one woman he knows best in all the world, the smile that she wears tells him instantly that everything is going to be okay. Marian Wallace looks much healthier than the last time he saw her. Starting to grey ever-so-faintly around the temples, but brighter. Better.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her eyes flickering up and down the unknown man in front of her, taking him in. For a moment, her pulse falters as the worst possible reason for a strange soldier turning up on her doorstep occurs to her. Then it quickly disappears, because the soldier’s face breaks out into a grin, and the young man replies,

“Hey, mom.”

 

xXx

 

Dale has never been so grateful for Ginn as he is when she walks onto the bridge. She's grinning brightly and, like always, it's as if some kind of sunshine has broken into the dark, miserable room. No one's said a word since Chloe showed up, working in a depressing silence. But the first thing Ginn does, crossing to a workstation, is announce cheerfully, "Eli should be back in a couple of hours!" Turning in his seat to smile at her as she starts to rummage in one of the crates for her work, Dale is about to reply when a mutter from Brody cuts him off.

"He'd better be, I've got a ton of stuff I need his help with." Ginn rolls her eyes, and Dale shakes his head.

"We met that other guy," he says, "Uh, Dunham? Peter, anyway. Harris was giving him a tour."

"Oh, really?" Sitting down at the station next to his with a handful of papers, Ginn takes the spare pencil he holds out to her with a smile. "What was he like?" Dale gives a non-committal half-shrug.

"Okay I guess. Bit excited."

"Just a bit," Brody pipes up again, gaze still focused on his diagrams. "I think you've got competition for Eli, Ginn, that kid idolises him." Ginn only chuckles into her pages, but the astrophysicist's eyebrows curve up.

"He can't be that young?" he argues. Brody snorts.

"Like a puppy. Dunham could almost be _Eli's_ kid."

And from there the conversation dissolves into a rather passionate debate over whether or not they should really consider themselves to have aged – Brody insists they should, because that's what all their paperwork will say when they get back to Earth, but Dale is far more reluctant to consider himself 38. Ginn doesn't bother to try and put in her opinion; personally she agrees with the engineer, but when the two men have such 'discussions' the only way to stop it is let them go back and forth between themselves until they get bored. So she does her best to block it out, glancing over at where Rush sits in the command chair, scribbling away wordlessly. She doesn't have to have been here long to know that his silence is unusual – by now he should've told at least one of them to shut up or get out. Instead he continues writing, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts.

Ginn lifts an eyebrow in a mixture of surprise and _okay, then_ , but even as she does so her eyes travel up of their own accord and meet Chloe's, standing at a panel on the other side of the room. The older woman's face is a storm of emotions: worry, apology, relief, hurt. Ginn knows that Eli's brush with death shook Chloe more than most people, with how close they are and all the things that had been left unsaid. She isn't vindictive and she doesn't hold grudges: she and Chloe aren't exactly _friends_ – the whole, _I'll keep accidentally taking over your body hope you don't mind_ thing didn't really help with that – but Ginn can understand how the woman feels and why. And if Chloe is important to Eli, then she'll try and make an effort to get to know her. She offers her warmest, small smile to show that it's all fine. The corner of Chloe's mouth turns up in a weak but grateful reflection.

 

xXx

 

For what feels like the millionth time today, TJ struggles not to cry. The words coming out of her mouth are positive, her voice steady and reassuring; she talks about miracles as if they are common occurrences, about the high likelihood of finding some kind of cure out here in the middle of the universe. But even as she does so she uses the darkness to hide her expression, and nearly chokes on the guilt welling in her stomach and clawing up her throat. She gives them a moment alone to absorb the information, making a half-hearted, transparent excuse that gets her out of the room for a minute or so. When she’s gone Greer lifts Lisa’s hand to his lips with sad eyes – vulnerable is something he will only willingly be for her – and kisses her knuckles, and tells her not to be ridiculous when she says it’s okay if he wants to break up. Then he makes some comment about being just as blind without her, and she laughs and calls him corny and he smiles, because he can do corny as often as she needs him to.

 

xXx

 

“Hey listen, Chloe, Brody says there’s gonna be a...” Scott trails off, pausing in the middle of their quarters and surveying the empty room around him. Chloe isn’t here. “...Party. Tonight,” he finishes awkwardly, nodding at the floor. After a moment he turns on his heel and crosses back to the doorway, pressing the button on the wall. The door slides shut just as he sits down on the edge of the bed. It’s dark in the room, without the glow of _Destiny_ ’s FTL stream or a charged lamp to provide light, but he doesn’t mind. He can hear the sounds of other people moving around the ship: footsteps walking past the door, a low hum of faint voices as people talk. The familiar noises prevent the darkness from becoming too unsettling – he can’t even imagine what it must have been like for Eli, spending hours at a time alone in the total black, trying to make the few lamps he had last. Complete silence. Utterly blind. Scott shudders involuntarily. Greer is right. What Eli did _was_ incredible.

Sighing heavily, Scott slowly shrugs off his black uniform jacket and starts to fold it neatly. He hopes Chloe is okay. Eli’s brush with death has hit them all hard, but anyone can see that Chloe is probably the one person most badly shaken by it apart from the guy himself. She’d hugged him once and then gone quiet, sitting silently and tearlessly through the whole story. Scott’s been with her long enough to know the signs that she’s really, truly upset. But hopefully it’s just shock, turning her numb; at some point soon she’ll come find him and she’ll cry it out, when she’s ready. Everyone on this ship knows how close she and Eli are, especially Scott. He’ll hold her until she’s done and feeling better, just like he always does. With a promise to himself to look after Chloe drifting temporarily to the back of his mind, he sets the folded jacket down on the bed beside him. Then, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Scott finally allows his thoughts to wander to the one place he has refused to let them go since waking up. _Matthew_.

He may be alive, but he’s missed another three years of his son’s life. _Years._ The little boy will be about eleven, now – has he grown? Does he still have freckles? Does he like sports or is he more interested in art? Has Annie started a college fund for him yet? Has she talked to him about his father? Matt’s eyes slip closed, bowing his head as he rests his forehead in the palm of his hand. Stasis has cost him the chance to be there for so many more important things in Matthew’s childhood, like his first day of middle school and maybe even his first girlfriend. Before he found out about his son Scott had been desperate to return home for only one real reason: fear. He was terrified, and that was it. He didn’t have parents or siblings or any kind of family to go back to. But since Annie told him about Matthew, fear and duty are no longer his main motivators. His son is. And for the first time in his life he wants to be home so desperately that it hurts, so badly that some nights he can barely sleep.

Scott won’t ever admit that out loud of course, except maybe to Ron. Not to Chloe – he knows she loves him, but the idea of Matthew is one she’s still getting used to, so he’ll let her have the time she needs to wrap her head around the notion. Because when they return to Earth his son is going to be a huge part of his life, and he doesn’t want to frighten her off by bombarding her with all his hopes and dreams for a child that isn’t hers.

 _Matthew and Chloe_. The two most important people in his life. Opening his eyes, Scott sits up, blowing out a small sigh of air. _The two most important people_. Nodding determinedly to himself, he gets up and heads for the door. He’ll get home to his son, no matter what it takes. He’ll get home.

 

xXx

 

When Brody hears two sets of footsteps slowly approaching, he looks up from his work and turns in his chair, hoping one of them belongs to Eli; among other things there's an equation he needs solving to help with the dimensions of the new water-purifying system, but after three failed attempts he has determined that only the Boy Genius will be able to get this one, seeing as Rush is being so damn sociable today. He can't continue with the project until he has the right answer. But it's not Eli. Moments later Greer and Lisa appear round the corner, the soldier leading the scientist by her hand with noticeable caution. The other occupants of the room (with the exception of Rush, of course) raise their heads as their two friends walk in - immediately Dale's expression shifts into the one he always wears around Lisa now, the light crease of concern furrowing his brow, dark eyes full of a longing to fix the situation. It's a look Brody has to stop himself from adopting, too, because although he may not have romantic feelings for Park she's still important to him.

He keeps his features smooth and unreadable, the way he likes to: emotions aren't his strong suit. Chloe chews her bottom lip, but Ginn (and he'll never understand how she does it) doesn't seem to waver at all, a gentle smile curving her lips. Rush, Brody decides, is either genuinely oblivious or just plain rude. Probably the latter.

"Where do you need me?" Lisa asks, grinning. He doesn't have to be able to see her eyes, hidden by her sunglasses, to tell that it's forced. "Anything I can do?" They come to a halt, but Greer doesn't release her hand and his eyes don't leave her face. The engineer looks to Dale, just as Ginn and Chloe do. With Rush off in his own little world and Eli's consciousness currently running around on Earth he's third in the science team's unofficial hierarchy of _who we nag when we have questions or need something to do_. The astrophysicist now seems just as lost as he did earlier when Chloe showed up, only this time it's worse because he really hasn't got anything that Lisa can help him with, but there's no way he'll find it in himself to tell her so, to make her feel useless. Half-turned in his seat, Dale glances at the various papers spread out over his workstation as his mouth opens and closes, trying desperately to think of something –

"Volker's just about to help me with this equation," Brody says, knowing he should jump in and save his best friend's ass for once. All eyes in the room swivel to him, even Greer's, and just for a moment he thinks he sees something like gratitude hidden there. "I need it for the dimensions to the new water-purifier I'm working on, but I keep getting stuck. Maybe Dale can bounce some ideas off you?" The smile that graces Lisa’s lips is more real this time.

“Sure,” she says, sounding chipper, and he can’t help but feel a sudden rush of affection for his colleague. “Okay.” Brody starts to sift through his drawings and notes, looking for the page with the offending equation on as Greer leans closer to Park and mumbles something in her ear. She mutters something else unintelligible in response. Brody supposes it must have been some kind of goodbye because in a rare public display of affection, Greer briefly touches his lips to her hair, and without looking back walks briskly from the room.

 _Very bad news, then_ , the engineer thinks to himself. _He must really be upset_. Finding the page, he pushes away from his workstation and gets up, meeting Ginn's eyes as he does so; she stands, too, and moves the chair from Eli's station whilst Brody gently takes Lisa's hand and leads her over. Dale shuffles up to make room for the extra seat as Ginn slides it into place and Brody helps Lisa sit down.

"Maybe, with your help," he begins, passing the paper to the astrophysicist, "Volker can actually make himself useful." Everyone sniggers – apart from Rush, who remains as silent and brooding as ever – and Dale's indignant protest of,

"Hey!" makes it feel, just for a moment, like everything is normal. Chloe returns to her work and everyone wanders back to their seats. Dale starts to quietly read out the equation to Lisa, throwing his best friend a grateful look. But Brody waves a hand dismissively and ducks his head, re-immersing himself in his sketches, and doesn't say another word on the matter.               

Emotions aren't his strong suit.

 

xXx

 

“We need to keep an eye on the crew. It’s possible that some of them will start experiencing symptoms of shock, after what happened with Eli.”

TJ expects Young to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He keeps his head bowed and the pencil keeps moving, writing up some report or other, and TJ feels her pulse skip a beat in disappointment. “Eli himself is dehydrated, sleep-deprived,” she continues. “He’s running on adrenaline and pure relief, give it a day or so and he’ll crash if he’s not careful. I prescribed rest and fluids – Corporal Dunham is taking it easy with Eli’s body. I think he’ll need to double his water intake, though, just for a few days.” Her temper momentarily flares as Young mutters,

“We don’t really have the supplies…” She decides to ignore him. She _is_ the Chief Medical Officer on board this ship, after all. “Aside from that he’s fine. Just shaken up, I expect. Ginn is completely fine, perfect health. Doesn’t look like she was ever even…y’know.” Falling silent, she catches herself starting to bite her lip when he doesn’t say anything. Then what feels like an incredibly long silence later, the pencil stills and he looks back up at her.

“Okay,” he says. “Is that everything?” TJ swallows and nods, no longer trusting her voice. “Thank you.” He sounds just the way she feared he would: detached, estranged, as if they’ve never met before.

 

 _He overlooks you and you deserve to be treated better than that_.

 

“Why are you acting like this?” Young blinks. Once. Twice.

“Like what?” TJ is just about ready to cry. Or punch him. Maybe both.

“So distant, like we hardly know each other, like we were never – ”

“Do we really have to do this now?” Definitely the second one, she decides. She’s going to punch him – in her imagination, at least.

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, TJ?”

“It means you’re an asshole. _Sir_.” She says it without thinking, and as soon as the words are out of her mouth she knows it was too much. Enough to be reprimanded for, with good reason. But right now, she can’t bring herself to care. She’s tired of trying to respect a man who has respect for her. Commanding Officer or not.

Young stares at her in evident shock, as if not quite sure whether he just imagined that. TJ doesn’t bother to wait for a reply. She makes to leave, adding, almost as an afterthought,

“I’ll be in the Infirmary, trying to remember that I’m just one of the crew,” before turning her back on him, and closing the door on his silence behind her.

 

xXx

 

By the time _Destiny_ is finally at the right distance to initiate her refuelling process, Dr Nicholas Rush has had about as much as he can take. Without a word he snaps shut the little black notepad full of calculations, throws down his pencil unceremoniously and stands; all five of the other science personnel present either look up or twist round in their chairs to see what the problem is. Even Lisa turns her head in his direction, and Dale breaks off halfway through announcing that _Destiny_ has just begun repositioning manoeuvres.

“Dr Rush?” Ginn asks, but receives no reply. Rush folds up his glasses and slips them into his pocket along with the notepad, avoiding eye contact with all of them – and then starts to walk briskly towards the door. Dale swivels his entire seat round, confused: didn’t Rush say he’d be present to supervise the refuelling?

“Rush? Where are you going?” The older man simply ignores him as he stalks past, and doesn’t bother to pick up the pencil on his way. “Rush!” Dale calls after him, raising his voice. “Rush! We need you here!” But the scientist is already disappearing out of the door. For a moment the science team sit there in surprised silence, listening as Rush’s footsteps grow fainter and fainter.

Then Brody sighs and shakes his head, and throws a look at Dale that clearly says, _A lotta work_ , before turning back to his station. Dale looks from Brody to the doorway, sinking back in his chair.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs, his tone thick with disbelief. “Unbelievable.”

“What’s he done? Where’s he going?” Lisa asks, twisting her fingers together in her lap and frowning.

“God knows,” Brody mutters without looking up from his work.

Ginn is still paused with her pencil in mid-air, halfway through shuffling through her notes. She leans back in her seat so that she can properly see Dale and Brody around Lisa, and looks at all four of her friends as she suggests, “Maybe he’s not feeling well?” On the other side of the room Chloe nods from where she stands at her console.

“He _does_ get cranky when he has a headache,” she puts in, raising her eyebrows. Another mutter drifts over from Brody,

“You mean crankier than usual.” The corner of Chloe’s mouth turns up before she can help it, and Ginn tries to hide a wry smile behind her hair. Dale shakes his head again, swivelling back round to his control panel.

“No, he’s been like that since this morning. He came in when it was just me and Brody and hasn’t said a word since.” Ginn stops in the middle of writing out an equation, processing that information.

 _Since this morning? Since he spoke with Eli?_ No sooner has the thought registered than Brody is saying,

“Makes you wonder what Eli said to him.” She glances up at the tone of his voice, and finds not just Brody but also Dale and Chloe looking pointedly at her.

“What?” Brody quirks an eyebrow curiously and they subtly lean in just a little closer.

“Well?” he prompts. “What _did_ Eli want to talk to Rush about?” Ginn resists the urge to roll her eyes and resumes writing the rest of the equation down.

“Eli doesn’t tell me everything, y’know,” she says, and it’s not really a lie. Even though she knows what the conversation must have been about, she doesn’t know exactly what Eli was going to say. Looking back up at them and reaching for a fresh piece of paper, she continues, “And besides, even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s probably private.” Thankfully Brody just shrugs and drops it, going back to his work, and Dale is quickly distracted as _Destiny_ begins another set of manoeuvres. He returns to talking the process over with Lisa. Chloe is the only one to meet Ginn’s eyes, concern visible in her features. Ginn smiles as genuinely as she can, and turns back to her station. Whatever Eli said, she knows it was something Rush needed to hear.

 

xXx

 

For all her smiles and good cheer, Marian Wallace’s hold is tight when she hugs her only son goodbye. “You be careful,” she mumbles into a stranger’s shoulder, as if she can ensure it just by saying the words out loud. She feels Corporal Dunham’s cheek rub against the top of her head.

“I will, mom.” Eli pulls back and smiles at her reassuringly as he can, hoping that Dunham has a kind smile, and tells her, “I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?” He doesn’t want to give her a time frame, give her false hope; to estimate _when_ exactly he’ll be coming home would be to make a promise he may not ever be able to keep. And as gentle as his words are, Eli knows that his mother is aware of this caution. She nods, forcing her lips to curve up. Somehow it doesn’t seem entirely false.

“I’ll see you soon, honey,” Marian replies, but they both know she doesn’t mean in the flesh. He tells himself he’ll find a way home, no matter what it costs or how long it takes him; he feels invigorated now (even if it may have something to do with being in a body that isn’t stiff with a constant headache). He feels refreshed and motivated, and more determined than ever. They’ll do it. They’ll get back to Earth.

 

xXx

 

“So you just light the fuse and...let it explode?”

“Yeah – well, it shoots up into the air first, then it explodes.”

“Into fire?”

“Uh, not exactly...more like sparks, but in all different colours. It’s beautiful.” James has spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to explain the concept of fireworks to Varro, something he’s apparently never seen or heard of before. Their walk has taken them all over the ship, round in a long circuit through the occupied areas. Varro is unexpectedly funny, and sweet – she can totally see why her alternate self ended up with him on Novus, and why for a moment there it looked like TJ was about to abandon ship on Colonel Young. But in all honesty, right now the thought of relationships and the attached emotional drama makes her want to punch someone in the face. So no impromptu marriages aboard the _Destiny_ today, thank you.

And you do this for....fun?” Varro asks, slowing down as they approach the corridor where he needs to take a left. He’s trying his best to hide it, but James can see the deep curiosity lingering in his eyes and leaking out around the edges of his words. She’s reminded of just how excited he became when they almost got to go back to Earth that time. The plan fell through in the end, obviously, but there was no mistaking the fact that Varro is fascinated by their home planet and wishes he could experience life there for himself. Desperately. Grinning, James folds her arms loosely across her chest and tries not to laugh.

“Yeah, for fun,” she answers, “but mostly for celebration. Like to mark the New Year, or an important event.” Varro nods, thinking this through.

“I see...” His brow crinkles a little in thought. “And what do these...fireworks...look like? When they go off?” Silence falls between them for a moment or so as James wonders how she can describe it in a way that he’d be able to imagine.

“Like stars bursting in the sky,” she finally explains, and there’s an undeniable awe in his voice when he whispers,

“ _Wow_.” They draw to a halt at the end of the corridor, and turn to face each other. If he didn’t have to go they could probably talk for at least another few hours with ease, but they can’t: he wants to ask Young if he’ll get a chance to use the stones to visit Earth, and the Colonel is expecting him. Varro smiles at her, well aware now of why in an alternate timeline he decided to pursue her romantically – and equally aware that affairs of the heart, for the time being, no longer hold his interest. “Fireworks,” he says, testing out the foreign word on his tongue again. “They sound amazing.” James’ cheeks dimple as she grins.

“Well hopefully, if you get that rotor slot on the stones, you’ll be able to see some for yourself.” His face lights up at that idea.

“I hope so,” he replies enthusiastically, and then tries not to cringe at how much he sounds like an over-excited child. “I should get going...” James nods, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You should,” she agrees.

“Yes...” They both go quiet; not awkwardly, to James’ mild surprise, but comfortably. Then he tells her, “It was nice talking to you,” and she decides to take that as her cue to leave.

“Thanks,” she replies. “You too. I’ll see you around, then?” Varro nods once, still smiling.

“Yes, of course. See you around.”

They both turn, reluctantly, and head off in their separate directions. James doesn’t glance back until he’s almost out of sight, and misses the second look he steals over his shoulder as he walks away.

 

xXx

 

Bright light fills the room, bursting in through the windows, illuminating sparse furnishings and the sombre face of its only occupant. The rays of orange and gold shining into his eyes go ignored by Rush as he sits on the edge of his bed, back to the door, staring at the device in his hands. With the boy away on Earth it had been no problem to quietly slip into Eli’s quarters and retrieve the kino panel. The scientist refuses to consider it theft; he’ll put it back, as soon as he’s done. Eli’s words during their ‘talk’ this morning have been plaguing his mind all day, burning a hole in him in a way he’s never experienced before.

_You didn’t consider anyone but yourself. You never do!_

But that was nothing compared to what he found waiting for him in his part of the younger genius’ recorded goodbyes.

_I don’t blame you for wanting...wanting me gone. Dead. Out of the way. I understand._

Eli was right about the stasis pods, he’d owned up to that: he found them before anyone else and kept them secret. He’d planned to study them further, develop as thorough a knowledge of them as he could before revealing his find, indirectly, to the rest of the crew. But he’d never intended...he’d never meant...it was supposed to be a test. Just a test of the man’s ability, a chance for him to prove himself. It was never a question of whether or not he would succeed, but of how long it would take him. Rush had never even entertained the idea that his little experiment might go horribly wrong – until he woke up and discovered, to his horror, that Eli was not there.

 _I didn’t want it to end like this_.

He’s not a cruel man. Ruthless, maybe, and perhaps calculating and manipulative. But he’s not heartless, no matter how much he tries to hide his...unfortunate humanity behind a mask of indifference, and _God_ doesn’t he know it. Every inch of him, every fibre and nerve-ending screams _Mandy_. He feels sick with himself. He sees, now, what a bloody stupid idea it had all been. He’d nearly killed Eli Wallace and, at the same time, had convinced the Boy Genius that he was disposable and useless. Rush meant what he said. Eli does have real, true potential. Thumbing the keys of the kino panel, Rush rewinds the last part of the goodbye and presses play. On the screen an exhausted, wasted boy looks back at him – the sight makes Rush’s insides twist with shame – and his voice fills the silent room once more.

“I know there’s good inside you. I know you’ll keep them safe.” Kino-Eli goes quiet for a few seconds, and then the video cuts to the next recording. Rush hits the stop button just as Eli begins addressing Colonel Young. He presses rewind again. Play. “I know there’s good inside you. I know you’ll keep them safe.” And again. And again. Rush lets out a shaky breath, letting the words echo in his mind, sink into his skin. What kind of man must Eli be, to believe in him after everything that has happened, true or untrue? The answer rings out from somewhere deep down in him.

 _A better man than me_.

Rush rewinds. Sears the words into his memory.

 

_I know there’s good inside you._

_I know you’ll keep them safe._

 

xXx

 

When Eli opens his eyes to familiar metal walls and a friendly, “Welcome back, kiddo,” he feels considerably lighter than when he left. A huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders now that he knows his mom is doing okay. A smile automatically forms his face as he plays back her laughter, the joking, the way her features lit up at the mention of Ginn.

 _Is she pretty? Wait, no, I know she is – what’s she like? Is she younger? Older?_ Collecting his radio from Robinson, Eli sets off down the finally lit corridor in no particular direction, with only one person in mind to see.

On the bridge, the science team all start as Brody’s radio suddenly crackles.

“Hey, Brody? It’s Eli, do you know where Ginn is?” Lips immediately curving up into a grin at the sound of his voice, she looks up from her work as the engineer lifts the radio to his mouth.

“She’s right here, I’ll pass you over.” He leans back in his seat and holds out the device, and in a matter of seconds Ginn has abandoned her workstation and crossed the room to take it from him with quiet thanks. She pauses, just for a moment, before speaking into the receiver; she clears her throat and brushes her hair behind her ear, trying not to blush at her obvious enthusiasm. Then she says brightly,

“Hey, I’m here! How did it go?” His reply comes back almost instantly.

“It was great, really great.” She can hear the smile in his tone, and it makes something flutter in the pit of her stomach. “Are you busy?”

“Nothing I can’t do later,” Ginn doesn’t hesitate to tell him, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Dale’s lips twitch up. “I’d rather hear all about your trip. Where are you?”

“Uh...” Eli trails off confusedly, looking around at the corridor he’s in, recognising nothing. _Note to self: aimless wandering, not a good idea_. “I’m not actually sure...” The science team snigger into their pages, and Ginn bites down hard on her bottom lip to keep from joining in. For someone so clever, he can be so adorably clueless sometimes. “Hang on, I think I’m near the mess. At least, I hope so...” Shaking her head, Ginn half-chuckles in reply,

“Wait there, Boy Genius. I’ll come find you.”

“Oh _ha ha_ ,” he laughs, and she swears the roll of his eyes is nearly audible. “Okay, I’ll stay put.”

“Be there soon.” She hands the radio back to Brody, who sets it out of the way in a corner of his station – then she moves back to her own control panel, gathering up her notes and tapping them into a neat stack against the metal, sliding them into a file and pushing her chair in. Ginn drops her pencil in front of Dale and the file into one of the open crates by the wall as she heads for the door, and informs them all brightly, “I’m clocking off for today, I’ll see you later!”

The rest of the science team barely have time to throw ‘ _bye_ ’s her way before she is gone, and they hear her disappearing down the corridor. They all look at one another bemusedly for a few seconds. Then Brody, ever the ray of sunshine, says,

“If it were anyone else, it’d be sickening.” And he, too, starts to collect his work together.

“Wait, where are _you_ going?” Dale asks, turning to face his best friend as he gets up.

“I’ve gotta re-open my bar,” Brody replies with a half-shrug, as if this should be obvious. “For the party tonight. I put all of my moonshine into storage before we went into stasis, someone’s gotta make sure it tastes okay.”

“I’ll help!” Chloe unexpectedly pipes up from the other side of the room, papers already in hand. She’s smiling but inside, after this morning, she _really_ needs a drink.

“But – ” Dale starts to protest, but it’s too late: Brody is walking out of the door. He sighs and makes to stand, figuring he might as well tag along – they’ve refuelled and, given what Eli said about Franklin and _Destiny_ , it’s probably best not to argue if the ship wants to take back a little control. She’s clearly aware enough to know the need to resupply, she’ll find them a suitable planet – when a hand on his arm stops him.

“Are you going, too?” Lisa asks, brow furrowed, her eyes on his shoulder. For half a moment Dale freezes, looking down at her, and Chloe stares at them whilst she carefully returns her work to the crate. Then the astrophysicist sinks back into his seat, curling his fingers around Lisa’s. His voice is far softer as he tells her reassuringly,

“No, I think I’m gonna stay here a while longer. Get this done.” He is too absorbed in Lisa’s relieved expression to notice how Chloe lingers briefly in the doorway, watching the exchange with a sad smile on her face, before she leaves.

 

xXx

 

The mess is almost deserted; only a few other people occupy the space, a small group of civilians talking at a table on the other side of the room. Matt twists his cup of water between his fingertips as he sits in silence, thinking. With no gates yet in range and Young too busy with other things to assign new tasks to the military, there isn’t much else he _can_ do. They haven’t resupplied yet so there’s nothing that needs guarding except what’s left of their water, and Dunning’s already got that covered. So he’ll just sit here a while longer, until they either drop out of FTL or someone finds him with a job that needs doing. He still hasn’t seen Chloe since this morning, but she’ll have heard about Brody’s ‘celebratory gathering’ tonight by now. Not exactly Young-approved, but the Colonel won’t make him call it off – after what they’ve just been through, the crew needs to have some fun. Besides, if they haven’t dropped out of FTL by then they won’t have many better things to do with their time.

Matt looks up at the sound of footsteps as someone enters the room, and finds a tired-looking Greer walking slowly towards him. Forcing a smile, he calls,

“Hey, man.” Greer fakes a smile of his own, sitting down opposite Matt and holding in a sigh.

“Hey, brother.” The Master Sergeant laces his fingers together on the table top. And that’s all that is said for a few long minutes. Matt wants to ask about Lisa’s check-up with TJ – not just because it’s the considerate thing to do; he does care – but the look on Greer’s face instantly tells him everything he needs to know. Brow furrowed, lips pressed together in a tight line, eyes intently fixed on the surface of the table but seeing something else entirely. Not good news. Swilling the water around in his cup, Matt glances down at the contents and back up at his best friend, hurting for him.

“I’m so sorry, Ron,” he murmurs quietly, so that the civilians chatting in the corner won’t hear. “I wish there was something I could do....” He lets the sentence hang in the air, resisting the urge to sigh into his drink. Lisa doesn’t deserve something like this. Neither does Ron.

Greer’s eyes close for a moment at his words. But then they open again and he straightens up. He unlaces his fingers and folds his arms instead, and with a nod he meets Matt’s gaze as he says, “I appreciate it. But we’ll get through this. I’ll take care of her. We’ll be okay.” Matt nods his agreement, forcing another smile.

“I know you will.” He’s lifting his cup to his lips when he notices James walk in. She spots them immediately and heads over, grinning and giving them a little wave.

“Hey guys,” she greets them cheerfully, sliding along the bench to sit next to Greer. “What’s up?” Matt shrugs and opens his mouth to tell her that, really, they’re up to absolutely nothing – but at that moment TJ steps through the door, and all three of them turn to look at her. She catches sight of them all and he signals her over.

“TJ!” TJ smiles weakly but doesn’t meet his eyes, and even as she sits down beside him she keeps her gaze fixed on the table. Matt instantly notices that she’s upset – her eyes are watery and there’s an ever-so-slight pink flush to her cheeks – but doesn’t say a word. If she wants him to know what’s happened (and something tells him that Colonel Young is somehow involved) then she’ll tell him. If not, then she won’t. James’ good mood has vanished in the face of her friends’ sadness. She looks around at the other three, takes in Matt’s pensive expression, the way Greer and TJ are firmly avoiding looking anyone else in the eye. They look positively miserable, and for the most part she understands why: Matt will be missing his son, quickly living out his childhood on the other side of the universe; Lisa’s check-up, she doesn’t even have to ask, did not go well and Ronald, ever the soldier, is trying to man up and deal with the knowledge that his girlfriend will mostly likely never see again; and TJ, she’s been through too much in the past year. Four years. Well, one year. Whatever. Losing Carmen, finding out about her illness, all the business with Varro and Young....she has every right to be miserable. They all do. But, Vanessa can’t help but think after her insightful conversation with Varro, it seems that they have all forgotten one very important thing. Without speaking she gets up from the bench, heading over to the serving section of the mess. Matt glances up briefly as she does so but Greer and TJ don’t move, too lost in their own thoughts to really register much else.

They’re dragged back to reality, however, when two cups half-filled with water are set down in front of them, and James resumes her seat at the table. Countering Matt’s confused expression with a determined smile, James lifts her own cup to her staring friends. “Three years in stasis,” she reminds them firmly. “And we’re freakin’ _alive_.” It takes just a second for her words to sink in. But then, in spite of himself – in spite of how much he misses his son, how badly he wants to go home, how deeply he hurts for his friends – Matt finds that he too is starting to smile. His lips curve up of their own accord until he’s matching her grin, because of course she’s right. They _are_ alive. Beside them Greer and TJ finally look at one another, exchanging glances; but they can’t help the way the corners of their mouths begin to turn up as they then survey the drinks James has brought them, and wrap their hands around their cups.

“Three years,” Matt repeats in a murmur, and the utter ridiculousness of the whole situation suddenly makes it all seem quite amusing.

“Asleep in a rustbucket,” Greer adds in his low, gravelly tones, an involuntary smile building on his face.

“Lost in space,” puts in TJ, biting her bottom lip in a sincere (but pointless) effort to keep from grinning. Considering how crap things are for all of them right now, finding it funny seems totally inappropriate. But she still wants to laugh. It tickles inside her chest and it really is _so_ inappropriate, but it’s all true – a rustbucket. Three years asleep and vulnerable. Stranded billions of lightyears from home. And they made it through.

“To being alive,” James prompts, raising her cup a little higher, and her three friends lift their own cups. They touch them all together in the centre of the table, sharing a look of incredulity and amusement.

“And to the best damn sleep I’ve ever had!” Greer finishes with a grin, and then they’re all laughing, chuckling and smiling in the face of all their problems, because nothing should ever make them forget just how lucky they are to live in the first place.

 

xXx

 

The brightly-lit familiarity of the gate room is a welcome comfort after the events of the day. Colonel Young isn’t sure what drew him here, what made him seek out this place among all the others he could have chosen to go; but he’s glad he came. Laying eyes on the huge, ancient Stargate looming at the other end of the room, he feels grounded somehow. Anchored.

It reminds him of who he is – leader of this unlikely expedition, caretaker of this ship – and eases the fear and confusion he feels, because if he can ensure the survival of an unprepared and inexperienced crew in the vast, dangerous unknown of deep space, then he can certainly admit his feelings to the woman he loves. He can remember all the good things that came of that love and allow himself to keep it, no matter what happens or how bad things get. He can be certain. He _can_.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Young’s gaze shifts sharply to his right, and for the first time he notices the bearded genius standing at Riley’s old control panel. “All this time we’ve been here, and still it’s kind of mesmerising.” Rush’s eyes move over the screen in front of him as he presses keys, no doubt glad to properly get back to work now that power has been restored. Even from several feet away, Young can make out the weariness etched into the Scot’s features, the almost grey tinge to his skin, the lines and crinkles that seem to have deepened considerably since this morning, as though the man has aged a decade in the past ten hours. Rush normally looks worn and perhaps a little shabby sometimes, but now it seems far more pronounced. And the Colonel thinks he has a good idea of the reason why.

“It is funny,” he agrees, because Rush is of course talking about the Stargate. Their golden ticket (or their one-way ticket). He clasps his hands behind his back and meanders closer, relieved to find that the slight tension Rush’s presence usually rouses in him is, for now, temporarily non-existent. Young stops a respectful distance away, two, three feet, and lets his gaze travel over the Stargate once more. He is about to wonder aloud if they’ll ever get sick of the damn thing, but catches himself. Instead he says, “Those lost three years are gonna be a pain in the ass, I can feel it.” Beside him, Rush looks up in confusion.

“How d’you mean?”

“I was thinking...about how we’ve had four years to get bored of it, but that’s not quite true. Cause we were asleep for three.” Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he sees the corner of Rush’s mouth twitch up. “It’d have been a lot more if it weren’t for Eli, and Ginn.”

The scientist feels his mouth press into a tight line at that, the young genius’ words echoing once more in his mind:

 _I don’t blame you, for wanting me gone_.

The new and unpleasant knot of shame in the pit of his stomach jerks.

 _I understand_.

Immediately he shakes himself, relaxing his features and lifting his eyebrows, because it’s imperative that Young never finds out the truth. If the Colonel knew that he’d been keeping such huge secrets and nearly killed Eli in the process, well...Rush doesn’t really need or want to think about what will happen to himself.

“That was a close call.” He looks up, finding Young wearing a rather sombre expression, and for a moment the inflection in the other man’s tone takes him by surprise. His fingers still on the panel keys.

“You feel guilty,” he says, voice little more than an incredulous murmur that makes him instantly want to bite his tongue off. It’s not a question, but a statement. Rush returns his eyes to the screen before Young can turn to look at him. The Colonel holds in a sigh.

“Of course I do,” he admits. “I’m the one who let him stay behind.” He allows his gaze to drift, moving to Rush with an undeniable, intense curiosity. “Do you?” Several long moments pass, but the genius doesn’t answer. He simply continues pushing buttons as though he didn’t even hear the question, and Young has to fight the smile that threatens to curve his lips; his theory was right, then. There _is_ a reason why the man looks so drained. “It wasn’t your fault, Rush,” he says, something he has to admit he never thought he’d say. The words are intended to be a comfort, but when they reach Rush’s ears they have the opposite effect. The Knot of Shame jerks again and he’s unable to fight the pursing of his lips this time.

 _Oh, but it was. It was my fault entirely_. In some deep, dark part of him a traitorous voice whispers that Amanda would be ashamed, disgusted – for the first time since Eli had to quarantine her, he finds himself thankful that she isn’t here to see what he has become. _I know there’s good inside you_. Rush clears his throat, loudly.

“I haven’t looked ahead at our destination yet,” he announces abruptly. “ _Destiny_ has taken back some control and set us on a course. Given Eli’s conversation with Dr. Franklin I think it’d be best if we didn’t try to argue with her.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the panel and refuses to look up. “I believe she’ll drop out of FTL in range of a planet that meets our supply needs.” Rush doesn’t expect the low, gruff chuckle that he receives in response.

“Maybe you’re not such a pain in the ass after all, Rush,” Young says, and now he’s certain that a hint of a smile forms on the scientist’s face.

“Is that a compliment I hear?” The Colonel laughs again and moves towards the door.

“It just might be.” Then, before Rush’s smirk can grow any larger: “Celebratory drinks. Tonight, Brody’s Bar. You should come.” At this Rush does look up, taken by surprise again, but doesn’t get to search Young’s face for signs of sincerity – the man is already gone.

 

xXx

 

“She really looked so much better.” “That’s wonderful, Eli.”

“And I told her about you. I didn’t get a chance to last time.”

“Oh, God...what did she say?” Eli grins as a light pink flush spreads across Ginn’s cheeks, trying not to be too please with himself; she rarely blushes, so managing to make her do it is one of his favourite achievements.

“Nothing bad,” he assures her. “She _is_ pretty excited to meet you, though.” Although the thought of meeting Eli’s mother makes her insides tremble with uncharacteristic nerves, Ginn can’t help but smile. She gives his hand an appreciative squeeze, her fingers curled around his own as they walk slowly down the corridor, and bumps her shoulder playfully into his.

“I’m glad it went well with your mother,” she tells him sincerely, deciding to steer the conversation back to him before she can become any more anxious. “I knew that it would.” He nods and hums his agreement, swinging their hands lazily between them. It did go well. Much, much better than he’d expected. Whatever It Is Out There must like him, because it’s kept him alive and let him keep not just something on Earth to go home to, but also something out here to live for, despite everything.

“You know what?” he murmurs, grin still fixed in place. Ginn looks up at him, smiling curiously.

“What?” Eli gently bumps her shoulder back.

“I think we’re gonna be okay.”

 

xXx

 

Several hours later, _Destiny_ ’s corridors are ringing with real, raucous laughter for the first time in three years. Some of it is slightly tipsy, some disbelieving – but all of it genuine. The source? The loud, lively party taking place in Brody’s Bar. Hordes of tables and chairs have been temporarily ‘borrowed’ from other rooms and pushed together in numerous clusters, or fashioned out of crates and boxes. People are drinking and joking together whilst an iPod plays a classic over the speaker system. Camile feels a bit lost as she stands in the doorway, looking around at all the familiar and unfamiliar faces, all smiling, wondering where to situate her far less cheerful self. A husky, gravelly voice calling her name saves her the trouble.

“Camile!” Greer is beckoning her over. He’s one of a small crowd of people seated on makeshift stools at the bar on the other side of the room: Scott, Eli, Chloe, Dale, Lisa and Ginn are there too, waiting on Brody to pour them drinks. They all glance her way at the mention of her name. The Master Sergeant’s small smile matches her own as she slides onto the last empty seat next to Dale – gratitude, his a silent thanks for taking care of Lisa earlier. Everyone knows that the two of them have finally developed something of a friendship since their shared experience in the Lucian attack on Earth, but still Eli can’t help but share a subtle glance of surprise with Scott. Camile looks better, though. Still a bid sad, perhaps, but much better than she seemed this morning. The same goes for Chloe, perched on the other side of Scott, who has actually managed some genuine laughter in the last few minutes. Squeezed in between the Lieutenant and Ginn (who is to Greer’s left with Lisa and Dale to his right), Eli’s easy smile returns and he’s about to down his drink when someone clears their throat behind him. He turns, half-expecting Colonel Young to be standing there; instead, he finds a tired and rather grave-looking Rush. His heart plummets instantly in his chest, and the grin vanishes from his face so quickly that Ginn almost does a double-take.

“Eli,” the scientist says, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the bar but him, “Do you have a moment?” Just the sight of the man is enough to make Eli’s temper flare, the anger and hurt he’d managed to subdue throughout the day once again starting to bubble in the pit of his stomach. For a long moment he contemplates refusing. Saying no, turning away, ideally after punching Rush in the face the way he deserves. But even as the tension in the atmosphere rapidly ratchets up, two things happen: Scott deliberately clinks his cup against the bar to bring Eli back to reality, and a small hand covering his anchors him there.

“Sure,” he answers, voice tight and clipped. “A moment.” Rush nods, lips pressed into a firm line, and starts to make a beeline for an empty spot on the other side of the room. Eli’s eyes seek out Ginn’s immediately. Her gaze is steady, reassuring, like a gravitational field he can no longer do without. She squeezes his fingers.

“Try not to hit him,” she says, but they both know that she’s only half-joking. Still, he manages to lift the edge of his mouth before he slides from his seat and follows after Rush. Goosepimples break out over her skin in waves as she watches him go, the smouldering of his dark eyes stealing some of the warmth from her. She has only ever seen that anger maybe two, three times before – enough for a lifetime, she’s decided. Fury robs Eli of everything that he is. It doesn’t suit him. Ginn rubs at her arms and suppresses a shiver, but her thin long-sleeved shirt does little to fight the chill settling itself around her body.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells Scott quietly as the others go back to drinking and talking. “I left my overshirt on the bridge.” He hums into his cup and nods in acknowledgement, and Ginn is quick as she stands and walks from the room. She’s so engrossed in trying to recall everything _wonderful_ about her day that she very nearly walks into Colonel Young, who enters as she leaves. He doesn’t hear her apology, because his thoughts are also elsewhere – scanning the packed room for a laughing blonde medic. Seconds later he comes up blank. She’s not here, which means there’s only one other place where she could be. He turns on his heel and exits without a word. Varro watches this little display from the table-cluster closest to the bar, and can’t help but smile into the depths of his drink. From beside him, James catches sight of his grin and unconsciously adopts one of her own.

“What are you smiling at?” she asks curiously, fingers laced around her cup. Varro’s shoulder rises in a half-shrug and, surveying the celebrations going on around them, replies,

“It’s just nice to have everything back to normal.” A few feet away his words are overheard by Scott, who happily declares,

“I’ll cheers to that!”

Rush waits until the cheers-ing and clinking of cups has died down before he starts to speak, and when he does his voice is as soft as it was this morning, but his words are steadier. Eli doesn’t have to be a genius to tell that Rush has been thinking this speech over all day.

“What I did was reckless,” he begins, “and _stupid_. I meant well but instead I almost allowed you to die. It was under-handed and manipulative of me and I was wrong to do so.” His gaze meets Eli’s unfalteringly this time, but not intimidatingly. “I wasn’t lying when I said that you have potential, Mr Wallace. I truly believe you do and I hope that, in the future, you will grow to achieve great things. To be completely honest, I didn’t give you the respect you deserved before, but I’m giving it to you now. I am truly sorry for what I did and I hope that you can forgive me.” For a few uncomfortable moments after those last words leave his mouth, Eli simply stares at him. The younger genius’ face is set in an expression of concentration, drawn into a frown; trying to deduce how sincere Rush is. Rush breaks the gaze to study the floor. But whatever Eli finds must be satisfactory, because seconds later he replies,

“You’re a jerk.” Prepared as he was to be yelled at again, this simple insult takes the scientist by surprise. His eyes swivel up. “I’ll... _forgive_ you – ” Eli’s nose crinkles as if the word is distasteful, and Rush supposes that in this instance it really must be, “ – on two conditions.” The older man nods. “No more secrets. I don’t care about your pride or your God Complex, you’ll get us all killed. And no more tests. And no,” he adds as Rush’s lips part, “I won’t tell Colonel Young the truth, if you stick to my conditions.” The Scot feels a sudden urge to smile, taking in the indignant genius before him, the utter seriousness of his tone.

 _Oh, yes_ , he think to himself, _Eli may just grow up yet_. “Okay,” is his honest answer, eager to ease the shame and guilt that plague him (and to not be abandoned on a desert planet again as punishment). “I accept.” To cement the deal he holds out his hand, and after a lightning-fast glance down in scepticism, Eli takes it in a surprisingly firm grip.

“Swear it,” he demands, not asks.

“I swear. No more secrets. No more tests.”

 

xXx

 

He knew this was where she’d be. Of course it was – there’s no other place on the ship that is more a part of her. This room is her dominion, the room where (for the most part) she is in control. It’s the one place where she can never doubt the fact that she matters. Here she is worth something, even though he made her feel worthless. Colonel Young hovers in the doorway of the infirmary, silently watching TJ where she sits at the other end of the room. She has her back to him, an assortment of small boxes and containers laid out across a table in front of her; reorganising her supplies, he guesses, except that’s not what she’s really doing at all. Her left hand clutches what looks like a pack of fresh dressings, but her head is bowed and her right hand is at her mouth, and every now and then she gives a little sniff and a whimper that breaks his heart.

 _Goddamn it, Everett_ , he curses inwardly, guilt beating hard and fast in his chest. _You stupid son of a bitch._

This is all his fault. TJ was right, he’s been a fool and a coward and an _asshole_ to treat her the way he has, all because he was too damn afraid to admit his own feelings. As if she hasn’t been through enough, without him hurting her so cruelly. Well, not anymore. He’s the ‘Captain’ of this ship, he doesn’t get to be afraid. He doesn’t get to break the unbreakable to make himself feel better.

The sound of quick footsteps makes TJ sit straight up, wiping hurriedly at her tears and turning around in her chair. She’s immediately embarrassed to have been caught in such a pathetic state, but when she sees who it is walking determinedly towards her TJ’s heart leaps into her mouth and her stomach twists simultaneously.

 _Everett_.

Why is he here when he should be at the party? Has something happened, is something wrong? Or has he come to chew her out after the...highly unprofessional, things she said earlier? Please, God, don’t let her eyes be too red. Her mind becomes a whirlwind of confused possibilities within seconds as she stands, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin ever-so-slightly upwards in an attempt at regaining some composure. TJ licks her bottom lip and begins,

“Sir – ?” But that’s all she has a chance to say, because in a few heartbeats Young has closed the distance between them to take her face and cover her open mouth with his own.

 

***

 

Back in Brody’s Bar, the conversation is interrupted by a familiar whirr and grinding noise, followed by the odd, brief sensation of being somehow _stretched_ , and the stream of blue and purple flowing past the windows abruptly disappears. _Destiny_ has finally dropped out of FTL. A collective cheer goes round the room and Eli can’t help but grin. Even Rush smiles, and they both move back over to the bar where Brody is pouring new drinks for a toast.

“Perfect timing!” Greer declares as he and Matt refuse another shot of moonshine: they’ll need to be as clear-headed as possible if the gate dials, knowing their limits when it comes to Brody’s alcohol. Chloe happily takes a refill though, and so does Dale and – to everyone’s mild surprise – Camile. Brody pours his own drink, laughing, and as he lifts his cup he calls out to his watching patrons,

“To a new galaxy!”

“And to life!” Matt quickly adds, remembering the earlier conversation with James. For a few moments the room is filled with raised glasses and cheers of,

“New galaxy!”

“To boldly going!” and someone at the back of the room shouts,

“L’Chaim!” Dale, Chloe, Camile and Brody clink cups whilst Eli joins Matt, Greer and Lisa in clapping enthusiastically, and the rest of the partygoers down their drinks. Dale has barely raised his to his lips before a hand shoots out and plies the cup from his fingers.

“Hey!” he protests as Rush passes the drink to an unknown civilian at the nearest table.

“I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?” he says, clearly trying to sound stern, but Eli doesn’t miss the faint note of humour that lingers in his voice. Brody sets his empty cup down on the bar seconds later, sniggering at the indignant pout on Dale’s face.

“Back to work, then,” the astrophysicist mutters, frowning in disappointment, and as another round of laughter ripples out Eli swears that, just for a moment, he sees the corner of Rush’s mouth twitch upwards.

 

xXx

 

This is new. This is different, softness underlain with desperation, a need to impress something on her that she can feel purely through his lips. She’d forgotten how this felt. How right it is. Her knees are shaking and her heart is pounding furiously but she could care less about that, because she’s acutely aware of how one of his hands moulds to her cheek and the other drifts down to find the small of her back, pulling her closer; her fingers are delving into his hair though she doesn’t remember having moved, tangling in unruly black locks and it feels as if the bottom has dropped out of her stomach because she’s so _light_ , is weightless and dizzy and floating flying even as the tear tracks dry on her cheeks. But it’s not the need for air that makes them finally pull apart. It’s the shifting and grinding as _Destiny_ drops out of FTL that breaks the moment. He touches his forehead to hers but doesn’t open his eyes, keeping them firmly shut as her grip on his hair softens, thumbs brushing tiny circles over the skin behind his ears, and her light, unsteady breath filters out across his lips.

“You’ll never be...’just one of the crew’,” he whispers honestly. “You’re...so much more than that, you’re...everything.” The air hitches in her throat at his words. And then, so close that she can feel his uneven heartbeat against her chest, she huffs out,

“Jackass,” and crushes her lips to his once more.

 

xXx

 

Ginn smiles to herself as she walks down the empty corridors to the bridge, feeling happier than she has in _years_. First she was returned to physical form, to Eli, where she belongs. Then reunited with Varro and her friends, the closest thing she has to family out here in the unknown universe. And _now_ – now, the one thing she has prayed for and dreamt of every single day since she was a child has finally come true. _Patria. Free_. Ginn brushes at her cheek with the back of her hand, swiping away a few ecstatic tears. She can’t help but cry, knowing that the Lucian reign of terror on her homeworld has at last come to an end. No more death. No more pain. They won’t have to work until they die from sheer exhaustion, or face starvation during the cold, harsh winter season, _morta_. Darrus will not be forced to do terrible things in the name of the Alliance. He can hand over his military patches. He can return to the farm, like he always wanted, to help their mother and father with their life’s work before taking it over one day. And Atia...sweet, shy Atia, who by now will be a woman instead of the girl that Ginn remembers, can live without fear. She can fall in love and marry one of the village boys, have a family of her own, apply for a position at the schoolhouse like _she_ always wanted. Their mother and father won’t have to struggle every day just to keep themselves and their children alive. They can be happy. They can be free. And although her home may be with Eli now, Ginn muses as the doors to the bridge slide open, the knowledge that her family could be living and finally safe eases the guilt she feels at her own comparative good fortune and comfort. She may not ever see them again, but knowing that their pain is over in one way or another is more than enough. It’s these thoughts that make her heart race and her smile grow as she crosses the room, retrieving her overshirt from the back of her chair. Pulling the garment on over her head, Ginn’s mind wanders back through _Destiny_ ’s hallways to the party going on in Brody’s Bar, and the Boy Genius waiting for her there. _Eli_.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited about seeing Earth. Hearing Eli recount his conversation with his mother has made it all the more real: if – _when_ – the crew of the _Destiny_ figure out how to return home, she and Varro will be going with them. To Earth. _To live there_. Ginn can’t bring herself to tell Eli that she might face imprisonment, especially after how happy he’s been today. She can’t ruin his good mood like that. Tears and shaking words and vacant eyes still haunt her, because even though three years have passed since then it feels as though it was literally yesterday that she nearly watched him die. She chews her bottom lip, her chest clenching painfully as she tugs the hem of her shirt down. After everything Eli went through, he deserves this reprieve. He deserves to smile. So she’ll keep it to herself just for now. Maybe Telford will be able to pull some strings to keep her and Varro free. Colonel Young seems to believe he can, and she trusts the Colonel. Sighing, Ginn smiles again, just a little less brightly this time. She’d better get back to the party, and hope that Rush and Eli’s little ‘talk’ hasn’t ended in a full-blown shouting match. She hasn’t asked what happened between them this morning yet, something else she’ll save for another day. But whatever was said the scientist certainly did seem affected, judging by his abrupt departure from the bridge earlier. Speaking of which....

Stooping, Ginn reaches beneath her workstation for the pencil caught under the leg of her chair. Rush will be wanting this, later. Her fingertips have barely brushed the implement when she feels a strange sensation pass over her, and knows that _Destiny_ is dropping out of FTL. And less than a second later, the ship’s faster-than-light engines deactivating with a roar, Ginn cries out and slams her eyes shut as the bridge erupts in a burst of blinding golden light.

Her first thought, in the split second it takes for her to cover her eyes and straighten up, is that there’s been some kind of explosion – shield failure, a rupture in _Destiny_ ’s hull, an asteroid collision. But when she finds in the following seconds that she’s still alive, her instant conclusion of _we’re going to die_ seems infinitely less imminent. Lowering her hands, Ginn first cracks open one eyelid and then the other. Her eyes water and sting and she blinks rapidly, and looming so large before the ship that it takes up nearly the whole bridge window, she sees it: _a star_.

The wild beating of her heart slows, her eyes adjusting to the light and a relieved sigh crawling its way up her throat.

 _Not an explosion, then_.

Ginn leans forward over her station, peering out of the window at the giant ball of gas in their path. _Destiny_ ’s circumnavigation will cut it pretty close. Trying to work out a rough estimate of the distance between the star and the ship, Ginn frowns. Surely _Destiny_ ’s FTL course shouldn’t have brought her out so close? A quick, quiet beep from the consoles grabs her attention, and more than a little confused she sinks down into her seat, pressing a button to illuminate her workstation. Immediately her screen is flooded with Ancient text, reams of it scrolling continuously and too fast for her to understand. But it’s the diagram that opens over the text that really screams at her, because that’s what shows her the impossible. Ginn freezes, her fingers hovering over keys.

_No, that can’t be right._

She takes a moment to study the moving image in front of her, making sure she isn’t misinterpreting it, but she’s not wrong. _Destiny_ has initiated something that simply can’t be done, and she’s acted of her own volition. Her frown deepening, Ginn shakes herself and taps out a short sequence that should cancel _Destiny_ ’s command, ceasing all manoeuvres. The only response she gets is a sharp bleep from the interface and a notice that her instruction has been rejected. Now her pulse starts to pick up the pace. She tries the sequence again but is refused a second time, and before she can help it her mind flashes back to one of her waiting-for-death conversations with Eli:

Destiny _’s conscious. She’s awake. I think she always has been._

“What are you doing?” she asks aloud, typing in a shutdown command and having that rejected too. “What’s happening, _Destiny_ , tell me?” Not a moment later a small box pops up in the corner of her screen, containing just one line of text in English telling her exactly which procedure the ship is about to initiate. The words make her heart falter. Swallowing, Ginn slowly lifts her gaze from the console to stare in horror at the star on the other side of the glass as _Destiny_ begins to turn. And then she flies out of her seat, bolting the short distance to Brody’s station to snatch up his abandoned radio, and calls for the one person whom she knows will answer.

 

xXx

“The Colonel’s probably on his way,” Matt says as he stands. All around the room other patrons are getting to their feet to go to their stations, ready for dialling. “Does anyone know where he went?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Varro calls over from his table, getting up whilst James quickly finishes her drink. Greer carefully helps Lisa up, taking her hands and telling her gently,

“I need to go to my station...” He trails off, his unvoiced concern – _I can’t be there to guide you to where you have to go_ – clear to everyone present. Dale is the one to step forward and touch Lisa’s arm without hesitation.

“I’ll take her,” he assures Greer quietly. At first the soldier appears a little reluctant, but after a moment he nods. Lisa smiles as he drops a kiss onto the back of her hand and lets go, and she reaches for Dale’s wrist. Across the bar, Chloe meets Eli’s eyes, raising her eyebrows in a soft smile that he returns. Even after everything, knowing that his feelings aren’t reciprocated, Dale is too kind not to help Lisa when she needs it. Eli is about to open his mouth and ask Rush which of them should go to the gate room and who should go to the bridge when the radio clipped to his belt gives a loud burst of static.

“ _Eli?!_ ”

His heart skips a beat, the smile slipping instantly off his face. Everyone within earshot looks to him in surprise, almost seeming to freeze, and just for a second Eli can only stare right back because the last time that voice said his name that way he was sliding into the depths of unconsciousness. But then he shakes himself, and tears the radio from his belt.

“Ginn?” He tries to keep his voice steady, tries not to shout, but no matter the circumstances he knows that tone will always frighten him. Already his mind is racing with awful possibilities, most of them variations of different scenarios where she could have been hurt. “Ginn, what’s wrong?!” That’s the exact moment when he notices a faint golden hue beginning to fall over the faces of his friends. Their gazes shift to the window behind him, and as he turns to look bright, hot light bursts into Brody’s Bar and illuminates the room. Hands fly up to shield eyes and people look quickly away, gasping. Eli squints, his eyes watering, but he doesn’t miss the panic in Ginn’s voice as the radio crackles once again.

“Eli, we have a _serious_ problem!”

**Author's Note:**

> Patrian-English Translations
> 
> "sah" - 'sweet'  
> "ahna" - Patrian term of endearment usually used when addressing female family members.  
> "spera" - 'hope'


End file.
